


heat

by Anonymous



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Anal, Blow Jobs, Demisexual Essek Thelyss, Dry Humping, Fingering, Frottage, Hair Pulling, Hair-pulling, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Masterbation, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Self-Loathing Caleb Widogast, Sex Toys, Yearning, misuse of spell components, more tags added as the story continues, submissive!Essek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:21:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22566211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Elves have much lower fertility rates compared to humans. To compensate, every one hundred years or so, elves enter what they call a heat: a week long case of their libido on steroids, meant to encourage reproduction.Essek is 120, and has been delaying his heat for as long as possible.(alternate summary: Essek asks Caleb for a favor; it’s not the favor either of them expect.)
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 85
Kudos: 843
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A great many thanks to Lushthemagicdragon for the beta-read!
> 
> The first chapter is not smutty, but oh boy, the rest of it is.
> 
> More tags added as the story continues. Chapter 2 is about half-written, so it shouldn't be too terrible of a wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A great many thanks to Lushthemagicdragon for the beta-read!
> 
> The first chapter is not smutty, but oh boy, the rest of it is.
> 
> More tags added as the story continues. Chapter 2 is about half-written, so it shouldn't be too terrible of a wait.

The peace talks went well. They were all alive, still, which was impressive in and of itself. A peace of some sort had been achieved--perhaps not the everlasting sort of peace they’d hoped for, as both the Bright Queen and King Dwendal seemed eager to find some reason to start the conflict again--but for right now the war was over, and peace had been achieved.

It is good to see Essek again. The ocean breeze suites him, even if the sunshine does not. Caleb is grown enough to admit that Essek is attractive, and if he stares at him a little longer than necessary as the peace talks drag on, admiring the way the breeze gently moves his hair--well, no one else needs to know.

He’s grateful, of course, when Essek stops by and talks with the Mighty Nein, checking up on them and seeing what their plans are, now that the peace talks are finished.

It is a little surprising, though, that he asks to speak to Caleb alone, afterwards. 

“Of course,” he tells him, ignoring the childish kissing noises Beau and Jester make behind him. “If you’d like to stay for a while on the Ball Eater?”

There’s a dark purple flush to Essek’s face that is most attractive, but he follows Caleb silently as they walk to the underbelly of the Mighty Nein’s ship, in hopes of finding a bit of privacy.

He sends Frumpkin out to guard the door, just in case.

“You must be wondering what I wanted to talk to you about,” Essek starts, his face still a slightly darker purple than normal. He didn’t make eye contact with Caleb, either, staring at his feet instead, his hands shuffling around one another in a circular motion.

He’s  _ nervous _ , Caleb thinks suddenly. Nervous about what, he could hardly hazard a guess, but something is making Essek uneasy.

“The thought did cross my mind, yes.” He tries to joke, hoping to settle Essek’s nerves. 

“It’s about the favor you owe me,” Essek starts, then stops, looking up at Caleb, and then back at the door. “Actually, never mind, this is a  _ terrible _ idea. I’ll just leave. I apologize for wasting you--”

But Caleb’s curiosity is raised, now, and so he grabs at Essek’s arm, like he’s done in the past, and stops him from leaving. “It’s alright,” Caleb reassures him. “We’re friends, no? Friends can ask for favors from a friend. Especially  _ you _ , Essek. You’ve done so much for us.”

Essek’s face went even more purple. “It’s nothing, I assure you.”

“It’s not nothing.” Caleb rushes to assure him. “We would not have been able to help Nott defeat the curse placed on her if you hadn’t helped me finish the spell.” He gives Essek’s arm a gentle squeeze before letting him go. “Please. If there is any way I can help you, just let me know.”

“Oh, you may regret that,” Essek winces, biting his bottom lip nervously. “But first: tell me, what do you know about the drow? Our society, biology, and the like?”

What an odd question. “I know enough, I think. Humanoid. Less than I’d like to know about your society, because I’m not allowed in the library.”

“Ah,” Essek rubs the back of his head with nervous energy. “Maybe I am being unclear. What do you know of elvish reproduction?”

“Uh, it’s the same as human reproduction? I thought?” Caleb guesses, and knows immediately that he was wrong.  _ What is he on about? _

His comment earns him a soft smile, though. “Elves live for anywhere between 700 to a thousand years. If we reproduced like humans, we’d overpopulate the planet in a single generation.”

He hadn’t considered that, and now felt silly for not having thought of it. “Oh. How do elves reproduce, then?”

“Once every few hundred years, an elf enters what we call a heat. It lasts for about a week, during which an elf has both an increased libido and an increased fertility rate. Any other time, we are generally infertile.” He pauses, takes a moment to readjust the sleeves of his shirt. “ _ Generally _ . Accidents do still happen, and children are conceived even when the parents aren’t in heat, but at a much lower rate than say, the average human or halfling.”

“Ah. And you are telling me this because…?”

“Because I’ve been medically delaying  _ my _ heat for about twenty years now, and it’s becoming unavoidable.”

Ah. That explained the blushing, and the nervousness, although it did not explain Caleb’s involvement. “I understand,” he says. “Do you want us to try and find you potion ingredients for you and your partner, or--?”

“I don’t--” Essek stops looking at his feet, and starts looking at the ceiling instead. “I do not have a partner, Caleb, much to my family’s disappointment. I don’t--” he pauses, looking down softly. “Romance alludes me. I don’t understand it, and quite frankly, don’t think I’m capable of it. Romance, intimacy, it’s never been something I’ve needed, and so I’ve generally avoided it. Don’t get me wrong,” he shakes his head. “I’ve had sex, and I’ve had boyfriends in the past, but it was more for...for a physical release, not for anything beyond that.”

“And now you are about to go into heat, and you find you need a partner. I understand.”

“Actually...I’m rather hoping  _ you  _ will be my partner, Caleb.”

It feels as though the ship stops moving, like it comes to a screeching halt, and the floor underneath Caleb’s feet feel suddenly uneasy. “I’m sorry?”

If Essek- could blush any more, it would be a miracle. “This was a terrible idea. I’m so sorry for wasting your time. Forget I said anything--”

He starts to move towards the exit of the room again, but Caleb is faster, and manages to grab him before he goes too far. Essek stops as soon as he’s touched, and Caleb is suddenly, painfully aware of just how close he and Essek are every time they talk. Half a step forward, and their noses would brush against one another. “Why me?” He asks, breathless, because it is the first thought that pops into his mind. 

“A lot of reasons,” Essek says, sounding the most like himself since he entered the room, mentally going through a list. “I feel comfortable around you, for one, which isn’t true for a lot of people. I trust you, which is more than I can say for any stranger I might find to take your place. I know you aren’t going to use our-- _ liaison _ as a way to blackmail me. And I--” There were the nerves again, hesitation in his thoughts and his words. “I told you before, that romance eluded me? The same is true for--for sex, in some ways. There are not a lot of people that I find attractive. I can only think of perhaps a handful of people, throughout my entire life, that I’ve felt any desire to--to be close to. Part of why I delayed my heat for as long as I have is because I have so many better things to do with my time than to have sex with someone for a whole week, when I could be doing research. But I,” he looks into Caleb’s eyes now, silvered eyes meeting blue. “I am  _ attracted  _ to you, Caleb. And I cannot explain it, or rationalize my way through it any more than I could explain why the sky is blue.”

Caleb steps back, sitting on a crate in the underbelly of the  _ Ball Eater.  _ It’s a lot of information to take in at once, and he feels overwhelmed. At least sitting down, the gentle waves of the ship feel a bit more solid. “I’m--I’m honored, Essek, and flattered.”

Essek closes his eyes. “But you don’t feel the same. I understand.”

“No, no, quite--quite the  _ opposite _ , in fact,” Caleb feels his face flush with his own confession. “You--you are quite handsome, I just--” he lowers his head with embarrassment. “Forgive me. I’ve never been propositioned like this before.”

“I have,” Essek chimes in, a little smugly. “All the time. Mostly from women who are hoping I’ll father some sort of prodigy child. It gets  _ old _ , I promise.”

The levity is a welcomed distraction. Caleb smiles at him, and Essek smiles back. For a moment it feels like they are the only two people in the entire world. Essek floats back down to ground level and sits beside Caleb, on a different crate nearby. “I know it’s a lot. And I will not blame you or resent you if you say no. I don’t--I don’t want this to  _ change _ things between us,” Essek leans over, and squeezes his hand. “I have very few friends. As much as I hate the thought of trying to find someone else to help me with my heat, I would rather do that than lose your friendship.”

Ah, but wasn’t being together going to fundamentally change them anyway? Was it even possible for them to have sex (for a  _ week _ , Essek says) and keep their relationship the same?

Still, his words are reassuring. 

“I--I have questions, I think.”

“Then ask them. I will tell you anything I can, if it will help.”

“You said,” Caleb pauses, choosing his words carefully in common, not wanting to be misunderstood. “You said this was for fertility. The end result of this...we won’t create a  _ child _ , will we?”

One of Essek’s eyebrows rises higher than the other, his face pleasantly amused. “Not unless your anatomy is different from what I’ve been assuming, no, there won’t be a child created between us.” Rethinking what he’s said, Essek stops, thinking for a moment, flustered by his own (boldness? flippance?). “Although if your anatomy is different, that is fine, too. There are precautions I can take.”

Caleb shakes his head, amused. “Nein, you’ve assumed correctly, I just--you said this lasts a  _ week?” _ Essek nods. “Would you--how do you  _ last _ for a  _ week _ ? How would I--”

“There are potions that would help, on your end,” Essek’s face is flushed purple again. “And I do not know from personal experience, only what I’ve researched, that everyone is a little different, but most heats last for five to seven days. Some as little as three, some a little longer than seven, but that’s the average.” Essek’s hands tremble slightly. “I--I hope for average, or less, but again, I don’t have any comparisons.”

“And it’s, what, just sex for a week straight?”

“There are ebbs and flows,” Essek shakes his head. “It’s not as though we’d spend the entire time in bed together. Nobody would be able to stand that, I don’t think. But I would need you to stay with me,” Essek explains, quite seriously. “In my home, at least, because I wouldn’t know when the heat would strike. It’s not as though it’s a predictable thing, you know,  _ every four hours, -stop and have sex _ , but it’s,” he bites his lip. “I would  _ need  _ you.”

They are quiet for a moment as Caleb tries to process. It sounds insane. Surely this is a fever dream, and in a few moments he will wake up, Frumpkin asleep on his face.

  
But no. Essek’s body is warm besides his, and when he pinches his own hand the pain is sharp and real.

He still can hardly believe it; a sense of unworthiness tugs at his throat as he speaks. “And you would choose me to go through this with you? Of all the people in Rosohna? Or, well, even of the Mighty Nein? Fjord is quite handsome, and Caduceus--”

“Neither of them are you,” Essek says, soft but determined. He doesn’t elaborate the way Caleb expects him to, but maybe he doesn’t need to.

Essek is attracted to him. The thought alone is powerful.

“I--may I have time? To think and consider it? I want,” he leans closer to Essek, so that his nose almost touches Essek’s. “I  _ want  _ to say yes, I do, but I do not want to rush into anything. I’ve not,” he shakes his head. “I’ve not been with many people before, either.”

He has been with one person, actually. Just Astrid, a long time ago. 

Essek grabs his hand again and squeeze gently. “How long would you need?”

“How long before your heat triggers?”

Essek laughs at that. “Well, you really are not supposed to delay it for more than a decade, and I’ve been putting it off for  _ two _ , so--”

“ _Essek_.”

“I will be fine. There may be--side effects, but we can discuss that later, after you are sure. Would,” he bites his lower lip again. “Would a week suffice? Would that give you enough time to figure out what your answer would be?”

“Yes. We are heading to Traveler-Con after this, but we shouldn’t be gone longer than a week. I think I could convince them to take a week off in Rosohna once we finish.”

“Then I will eagerly await your answer, Caleb Widogast,” Essek stands, and goes to leave.

It doesn’t feel right, letting him go like this, and so with a born impulsivity, Caleb stands and kisses him. He means for it to be a soft kiss, a kind goodbye, but Essek’s mouth is warm and his tongue chases the heat of it, pleasure cascading down his spine. It’s like a lightning bolt, the surge of warmth that shocks him to his core, warms his skin and sends sparks down to his toes. In this moment, Essek’s hands wrapped around the back of his neck, his tongue tasting Essek’s own. He cannot imagine ever letting go, his hands crawling on their own accord down Essek’s back, eager for touch.

He is like a man who did not know he was dying of thirst until he made his way out of the desert, finding water again.

Which is why it is Essek who pulls away, instead. The smile on his face is breathtaking. “A week, then,” Essek says smugly, letting go. The world seems colder with his touch. “Good luck, Caleb, and safe travels.”

* * *

It is--it is a  _ long  _ week.

He loves the Mighty Nein, and he loves traveling with them, but since Essek proposed that they--that they spend the week together, it has been all Caleb can think about. And there is no  _ privacy  _ with the Nein--they cuddle together in his dome squashed like abandoned kittens in a box surrounding each other for warmth.

It’s not bothered him before.

It bothers him now, when every time he closes his eyes, all he thinks about is Essek; his hands, his mouth, his touch, what it will feel like, soon, when he will finally be able to see him again. If that is, indeed, what Caleb wants.

(Oh, but he  _ wants _ so much. He shouldn’t; any day now, Essek will message him, say he’s changed his mind and found someone else, someone better than Caleb in every imaginable way, but for now his imagination gets the better of him.)

He takes a  _ lot _ of baths, excusing himself from the group more frequently, the only time he has that’s guaranteed privacy, and he doesn’t sleep much at Traveler-Con.

Four days in, someone brings up the idea of what happens next, forcing him to speak. “I’m needed in Rosohna,” he tells the party, vague and unsatisfying, but unable (and perhaps a little unwilling) to explain further. “When we are finished here, at least.”

It feels like they are all staring at him, but maybe he is just imagining it. “Why though, Caleb?”

“Yeah, I was thinking about checking in with Dairon in Zadash--why Rosohna?”

“Essek asked for a favor,” he tells them, not quite the truth but not quite a lie, either. “He asked me about it last week on the  _ Ball Eater _ . I told him we had Traveler-con first, and then I would help.”

_ That  _ gets their attention. Essek’s not-insurmountable debt owed. “Does he need all of us, Caleb?” Fjord asks, concern on his brow. He looks good, out here on the island. He is truly meant to be at sea; the bright skies and the sunlight make him glow. Once again, Caleb is struck by the sheer confusing fact that of all the beautiful men in the world, Essek desires  _ him _ the most. 

There is no accounting for taste, it seems. 

“I don’t think so. It is a magical thing, research,” he lies, again, easily, as second nature to him as breathing. “I will be staying in his tower, to help him.”

It is quiet, again. “Away from us?” Jester asks, her voice soft and low, sad at the prospect of her friend leaving.

“For only a little bit,” he promises her. “A week, at most.”

They agree, then, to return to Rosohna once they finish. They start to get excited about it, even, a week of planned down time; Caduceus has plans to renovate the gardens, Jester is full of pranking ideas, and Fjord wants to know what a Xhorassian spa is like, in comparison to their time in the Empire.

They all ignore Caleb, for the most part. Except for Beau.

“What kind of magic shit is Essek up to?” She asks, bluntly as always, corning him away from the group. There’s suspicion in her eyes, and mistrust in her body language. “What does he want you to do?”

_ He wants to fuck me senseless _ , Caleb thinks but doesn’t say, the thought ringing silently in his mind. “He needs my help with something.”

“So you’ve said. What’s the something?”

She’s not going to let this go; she isn’t an expositor for nothing, he supposes. “It is a personal matter,” Caleb tells her truthfully. “Medical, in fact.”

“ _ Medical _ ,” she says, disbelieving, but she clearly knows he’s telling the truth, because she doesn’t push it much further. “And he needs  _ your  _ help with it? Why not a cleric?”

“If I told you any more, I would be betraying his trust.” And his own sense of decency, of course.

Beau rolls her eyes at him. “Fine, fine, keep your secrets, and his, I suppose,” she shoves off the wall, punching him lightly on the shoulder, but not hard enough to bruise. “You know, I think he likes you.”

_ You don’t say. _ “What makes you think that?”

“I dunno, man. He’s always looking at you, like,  _ intensely, _ ” she shrugs, then turns around to head back towards their camp. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

It’s nice that she cares enough to notice. “I will be fine, Beauregard,” he assures her. After all, he has no intentions of letting his feelings get involved in this. “It will be a short week. You’ll see.”

* * *

He is at Essek’s home before too long.

Traveler-Con ended earlier than they thought, what with the cult interrupting everything and trying to sacrifice Fjord to a volcano, but they returned to Rosohna, and so, Caleb returns to Essek, to fulfill his part of their deal.

(The answer is yes. He’s thought it over, and honestly, he cannot imagine saying no at this point. He, selfishly, _wants_ this too much to say no.)

It’s strange, being at Essek’s home again. The last time he was here, he was trapped in a whirlwind of magic and research, desperate to help Nott. He did not appreciate the aesthetics before, beyond the basics. 

There are still holes in Essek’s backyard.

Perhaps, if this week goes well, he can try and fix them for him, given that he helped cause the mess.

Swallowing his nerves, he goes to knock on Essek’s front door, but before his hand reaches the door it swings open, and there is Essek, dressed in his mantle, his coiffed hair stylish and trimmed, a bottle of- _ -something _ \--in his hands.

He stops himself from walking smack into Caleb. “Caleb,” he says, breathless, and a little surprised. “You are early.”

“Ja,” he says, wishing his hands would stop sweating so much, and so he adjusts the straps of his backpack instead. “We made good time getting back here.”

“I’m--glad,” Essek says, nervousness on his brow. “Um, would you like to come in? I was about to head out--”

“No, no, I don’t mean to intrude, I just wanted to--”

“You aren’t intruding, I can change my plans, I just--”

They are speaking over one another, and neither of them are listening. Instead, Caleb laughs nervously, and rubs the back of his head. “I apologize, Essek. I should have had Jester send a message like she offered.”

“It’s fine,” Essek smiles kindly. “Really, come in. I was just going to run an errand, but it can wait. Please, I insist,” he floats back from his door, opening it wide for Caleb to enter. 

Here goes nothing. He steps forward into Essek’s foyer, speaking as he walks. “I wanted to tell you my answer. For--for the thing, we discussed.”

Essek closes the door behind him, snapping his fingers to light up his home. “I assumed as much. And?”

“My answer is yes.”

“You don’t have to apo-- _ oh _ ,” Essek’s mind catches up to him, realizing what it was Caleb actually said, and not what he expected. “ _ Oh _ . Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Caleb grins, enjoying seeing Essek caught off guard like this. “Why? Have you changed your mind? Found someone better?”

“Not at all. I’m just,” he looks down at the floor, playing with the sleeves of his mantle. “Pleasantly surprised, that is all.”

“Well, I am too,” Caleb smiles warmly, taking off his scarf. “So, I suppose now we need to--to talk.”

“Yes. Ah, if you’ll follow me, please?”

He leads Caleb to another tower--the third tower, the one Caleb hasn’t been in before. Immediately the atmosphere is different from the other two--one tower is meant to for guests, Caleb realizes with delay, and one is meant for work, but  _ this one _ is Essek’s  _ home _ , where he lives and spends most of his time. It is still cold, and it is still dark, but it is  _ lived in _ . There’s a discarded sweater in one of the chairs, and half-drank cups of tea and empty wine glasses, stacks of books and loose papers with notes scrawled on them, but it feels more like a home. 

It’s endearing, even if Essek is embarrassed, scrambling to prestidigitate his mess. “Apologies,” he says, opening a door and throwing the sweater into the room blindly. “I was not expecting company.”

“You’ve seen the Xhorhaus,” and it's a  _ constant  _ state of chaos, Caleb doesn’t say, “I do not judge you.”

“Very well. Have a seat. Um, would you like something to drink? I have wine, and uh, I still have some tea, I think, somewhere, and--”

“Wine is good,” Caleb offers, setting his bag down and sitting on a dark sofa. “Would you like me to light a fire?”

“Yes please,” Essek stands over to the side by some cabinets, going through his wine collection. “Do you have a preference of flavor? White or red? I have some older bottles--”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll drink whatever you wish to drink,” Caleb says softly. With a quick cantrip, the fireplace is lit, and immediately the room feels warmer and brighter than it was before.

Oh. It’s raining outside, he realizes suddenly, the sound of it hitting the windows alerting him more than anything. 

Essek walks up behind him, carrying two glasses of something dark and red, and he hands one over to Caleb gently before sitting down next to him on the sofa. He’s removed his mantle, and Essek is--smaller, without it. His shoulders shrink in, as does the rest of his form, thin and lithe and soft. “I hope you like it,” he says softly, as Caleb takes a sip. It’s mild but smooth, a dinner wine meant to go with anything, as inoffensive as possible. “So. Uh. The favor--”

“Right. I suppose we need to decide on the when and where, no?”

“Here,” Essek answers seriously. “And--tomorrow, I suppose, if you haven’t changed your mind after seeing my living quarters.” He swirls the wine in his glass gently before taking a large sip. “In all seriousness, we need to, uh, discuss boundaries and expectations. From what I’ve read, this will make the process go smoother, and will avoid any, uh, hurt feelings or complications.”

“Of course. That--that makes sense.”

“Um,” he takes another large gulp of wine, staring not at Caleb but at the ceiling above. “I told you earlier, that because I’ve been delaying my heat, there might be complications? I will,” and his face is a bright reddish purple color, lovely in it’s own way. “I will likely be-- _ incredibly _ submissive towards you. Which is not normally my preference, but it’s my understanding on how the heat works. I will likely try to please you, however I can.” He takes another sip of his wine. “I am--I am  _ trusting _ you, Caleb Widogast, that you will know my limits and you will not push them. I will be vulnerable, and I  _ hate  _ that, I hate it more than anything, and so I need you to know you won’t do--that you wouldn’t do anything I wouldn’t allow when I’m in my right state of mind.”

Caleb reaches out, and squeezes Essek’s hand softly. “Whatever you wish of me, I promise I will do my best to abide by.”

“I don’t, um, I don’t have many limits,” Essek’s thumbs circle the wine glass softly. “I do not wish to bleed. I don’t want to be peed on, no, uh, bodily fluids at all except for,” he looks up at the ceiling again, playing with his hair. “Cum, I guess.”

Caleb feels his own face flushing. “Right. I can, uh, do that, I suppose.”

“I do not wish to be seen in public while I am--in such a state, so privacy that we stay here--it’s extremely important to me. I have a reputation I wish to uphold,” he holds his wine glass so the wine swirls around the glass. “Do--do  _ you  _ have any, ah, limits, that I should know about?”

“Uh, same as you, I think,” Caleb blushes hard now. “I do not wish to bleed, or be cut in any way. Or,” he scratches at his scars, hidden beneath his coat, self-conscious of his arms. “I don’t relish pain. And I don’t wish for my appearance to be mocked. I know what I look like, I don’t--”

Essek’s hand is warm on his arms, and stops is scratching. “I think you are very beautiful. And I will not demean you by suggesting otherwise.”

You are a liar, Caleb thinks, but doesn’t say, the thought unkind. “Other than that, I suppose I’m open for, for most things that could happen in a bedroom, between two adults.”

“Hmm,” Essek agrees. “If you find that changes, or if I do something that makes you uncomfortable, you have my permission to stop me, magically, if I am--if I am in a state where I cannot be reasoned with,” Essek blinks slowly. “You know the  _ hold person  _ spell, right? I can teach you tonight if you do not.”

“I know that one, yes.”

“If I--if I try anything you decide you do not want, do not hesitate to cast it on me, okay? Even if I beg,” he downs the rest of his wine glass. “And I will likely beg, but please, know that your comfort is more important to me than whatever I may say in such a state.”

“That is good to know,” Caleb flushes, and takes a large sip of his wine, in hopes of hiding his face. “Is there--is there anything else I need to know?”

“I will get food for the week, and potions, for, ah, stamina. Lubricant. Is there--is there anything else you think we might need? Any,” Essek’s face is so bright and warm, now. “Toys, or images, or--?”

“No,” Caleb’s face is as red as his hair. “No, no, I think, ah, I think we are good there, ja?”

“Good to know,” Essek smiles brightly, his fangs delicately poking out of his smile. “Um, for a slightly less serious conversation, do you have any food preferences?”

“I will eat basically anything, so you do not have to worry about me, there.”

“For a week, though?” Essek scrunches his face, like he does not believe Caleb. “Would you--would you want to go with me, to get food and supplies? I was actually heading that way before you arrived, and this way you can help pick things out that you like, yes?”

The blush lifts, but only slight. “Ja, okay.”

* * *

_ Cayleb~. Are you on a  _ **_date_ ** _ with  _ **_Essek?_ ** _ You silly, telling us you were just “helping him with research” pfffft. You don’t have to lie-- _

He is certain there is more to the message, but he doesn’t hear it, limited as he was by the spell. Instead, he groans, setting his cup down. “Jester. Are you  _ spying _ on me? I told you I’m busy helping Essek research; please let me be. I will call if I need to.”

Across the table from him, Essek watches with quiet amusement, taking a sip of his own drink. “ _ Research _ ?”

He blushes; it must be a slow day, because Jester messages him again almost immediately.  _ I can’t scry on you because of your necklace. Yasha saw you guys while she was shopping. Have fun on your date~ Love you bye~! _

“Good  _ night _ , Jester,” he huffs, refusing to use the words to finish the spell, and instead intending on letting it fade naturally.

“Essek says good night too,” Essek winks at him across the table; Caleb scowls.

“Essek says good night too.” He repeats, then glares at his...partner, for lack of a better word. He waits until he feels the spell fizzle before speaking again. “Don’t encourage her.”

“I try not to, most days. Though I must admit, it’s much more entertaining when I’m not on the receiving end of such calls,” Essek grins. “Also: research?”

“Is that not what we were doing?” Caleb asks, a little coy. A few minutes ago, they had been arguing over which vegetable was superior when Essek suggested a drink to calm them both down. “I would say that argument is the first step towards good research, don’t you think?”

“And I would say you are still wrong, but cute when you try to word your way out of things,” Essek grins. “Did you need to stop at the Xhorhaus to get anything?”

“No, I brought everything I need,” Caleb shakes his head. “I was unsure if your-- _ you know _ \--was an immediate thing or not. And at this point, I would like to avoid my friends, please.”

“Then let’s head home,” Essek smiles wide, his fangs prominent in his grin. “Less we start any more rumors, no?”

Their drinks finished, and their supplies purchased, Caleb sees no reason to argue. “Lead the way,” he says coyly, watching with amusement as Essek floats from the table, levitating so that he and Caleb are the same height. 

“When will it start?” Caleb asks, after they’ve walked for a bit, ensuring a bit of privacy. “The--you know.”

“Tomorrow sometime,” Essek confesses, his voice low. “I’m not sure the exact time, but, tomorrow, certainly. It takes time for the, uh, preventative to stop taking effect.”

Caleb nods. “Of course.”

“And thank you, again,” Essek’s face flushes slightly during their walk. The rain is light but doesn’t seem to bother Essek much. “You do not have to do this. The fact that you are willing to--means a great deal to me.”

Perhaps he does not have to help Essek with this, but since he’s agreed, he’s found he’s very much looking forward to it. “I could not imagine, trying to find help with--with this,” Caleb confesses as they reach Essek’s front door. “Even if I did not owe you an insurmountable debt, I would still help because I could not imagine trying to find someone like you have to.” He watches as Essek magically unlocks the door, and floats their bags of groceries into his home tower. “You are my friend. I hope--I hope we remain friends, after this.”

“I think we will,” Essek says, setting the bags on his kitchen counter as he begins digging through them to put things away. “We’ve handled things, ah, fairly maturely so far, don’t you think?”

“Well, ja, but,” he scratches at his arms, memories of Astrid and Eodwulf resurfacing. “Sex changes things.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Essek confesses, levitating the noodle to the top shelf. “I’ve not had many sexual encounters, and those I have had have been with people with whom my relationship was the same both before and after. Usually we were using each other, so it worked out for both our benefits,” he smiles at Caleb before setting the teabags on the counter, emptying the last of their shopping. “I’ve not had sex with a friend, before. This should be...interesting.”

Yes, and that was part of Caleb’s fear. The last time Caleb had sex with a friend, he fell in love with her. Still, he didn’t want to talk about Astrid, not now, not with Essek. 

“Where would you like me to sleep tonight?” Caleb asks with slight hesitation. He is certain Essek must have a guest room somewhere in his towers, but he isn’t sure where. He hopes it is not too terribly far--while the three towers are connected, he worries a little about feeling lonely in such an empty space.

He’s not slept alone for a while. Even in the Xhorhaus, on a separate floor from everyone else, he can hear the others nearby, every time Caduceus needs a cup of tea, or when Yasha has a nightmare, or when Jester needs to go to the bathroom,  _ again _ . It used to keep him awake, how lightly he slept when the others were near. Now he finds it hard to sleep without them.

“I just assumed you’d sleep in my bed,” Essek says, his eyes slightly wide at the concept. “I mean, it’s not as though you aren’t going to end up there eventually. Unless you’d rather not? I can set up the guest room--”

“Nein, it’s fine,” Caleb says, a slight blush to his face. “That makes sense. Um, where is your bedroom, exactly? So that I can put my stuff away.”

Essek blinks at him. “Right. You need more sleep than me,” he says after a moment of thought. “And it is a little late. Follow me.”

He starts to glide up to the next room, but Caleb presses a firm hand on his shoulder, pressing him down to the ground level. Essek’s soft flush is adorable. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You do not have to float around me, you know?”

“I just forget, sometimes. Do you ever get so used to something that you forget to stop it?”

Bandages on his arms, that he still wraps up some mornings before he remembers. “Ja,” Caleb says, following him into the sitting room from before, and then behind it, to a stairwell that spirals upward. 

Essek’s upstairs room is massive, the size of the sitting room and the kitchenette down below. But it feels empty--there is a bed, a dresser, a mirror, a few windows, but they are small compared to the size of the room. “There’s the bathroom through there,” Essek points to one door across the way. “And the kitchen is downstairs. If you need the lab for anything, it’s through that door,” he gestures to the left. “And the guest tower is through the right.”

“I, ah,” Caleb rubs the back of his head. “I wasn’t planning on sleeping quite yet,” it was only eight o’clock, after all. “But uh, perhaps I could change? And we could stay up and, I don’t know, talk or read, perhaps?”

“Of course,” Essek nods subtly. “Let me consult my library--I may have some books that will interest you.”

He leaves to let Caleb change clothes, shutting the door behind him. Alone, Essek’s home is unnaturally quiet and still. He’s grateful for the gentle  _ tip tip tap  _ of the rain against the windows outside, so that there is some noise, at least, and he’s not completely alone with his thoughts.

Naked, he stares at himself in Essek’s large, imposing mirror. He is--not  _ unattractive _ , he supposes. He’s skinny, but less thin than he used to be, and while he is not as muscular as Fjord or Beau there is a bit of muscle there, just a small amount, the kind of tightness gathered from walking and fighting the way he does with the Nein, though he imagines he’s probably the weakest of the Nein still. There is red hair across his chest and his stomach leading to his groin; freckles on his cheeks, neck, shoulders and chest. His knees are knobby, and his feet seem too big for his lanky form. Scars are ever present on his form: a starburst where he was impaled in the stomach, a sword cut along his shoulder, claw marks on his back, his arms and the arcane etched into his skin.

Of all the people in Rosohna, Essek wants  _ him? _ Essek, who is undoubtedly beautiful beneath his mantle? 

_ Do not look a gift horse in the mouth _ , Caleb tells himself, studying his body once more. It is not as though he has any other offers of a sexual nature, and especially not from somebody as attractive as Essek.

...Should he have shaved? Would Essek be disgusted with him once he saw him? Oh, but it was too late now, wasn’t it? Better get dressed again before--

The knock on the door came as soon as he happened to get his sleep pants on. “Are you decent?” Essek’s voice chimes through the door. 

“Come in,” Caleb calls to him, turning towards his bag to look for a shirt. He did pack a sleep shirt, didn’t he?

Essek opens the door softly, and comes in without looking up from his stack of books. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like to read, so I got a few options,” he says, coming closer in the empty room. “I’ve got some historical fiction, some academic works on the nature of dunamis that I thought you might find interesting, a romance novel, a--” Essek stops once he sets the books down on the dresser, turning towards Caleb. “ _ Oh _ .”

“Sorry,” Caleb feels himself flush lightly. “I--I thought I packed a sleep shirt. I can’t find it.”

“You don’t need it,” Essek blurts out, and then flushes, stepping closer to Caleb. “I mean, you look fine. Better than fine. You are--very attractive. Sorry, that came out wrong. I mean, we--we are going to see each other naked eventually, right? I mean, that is the goal here, not that I am trying to objectify you. Although you are rather handsome, and I’m sorry, I’m rambling again, I just, um, I--”

Caleb kisses him.

It’s slow, at first, softer than the first time they kissed, a week ago on the  _ Ball Eater _ ’s lower deck. Essek is hesitant at first, kissing him only on the surface, but then his mouth opens, and  _ oh _ , he’s missed this, this sense of fire bubbling just under his skin. Essek’s mouth tastes like the drink they had an hour ago, and his hair is soft and curly in Caleb’s hands. Essek’s hands have found their way to Caleb’s chest, exploring his skin like something that he craves. His fingers brush against his nipples, and then trail lower, toying with the soft hair on his stomach.

When they pull away, Essek is blushing again, and Caleb has to force himself to let go of him, to detangle his hands from his hair. 

“Good night, Caleb,” Essek says softly, and leans forward to kiss again, just a gentle peck on the lips. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He leaves the room, and Caleb is alone again with his thoughts.

So he tries to go to sleep at 8:30 at night, alone in a strange bed in an unfamiliar house, his thoughts racing as his skin feels like fire. 

He doesn’t even look at the books Essek has left, too distracted by his own mind to pay them any attention. 

The sheets smell like Essek, too: electric, herbal. Eventually, he falls asleep, warmed by the notion that, tomorrow, he will likely kiss Essek again, too.

(He never did find his sleep shirt.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caleb packed several shirts, actually, but Jester removed one from his pack, Nott removed another, and Beau took one, so really, he only had 1 shirt left in his sack by the time he got to Essek’s house. The girls were trying to Help a Bro Out, you know?


	2. day 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys😍🥰🤩😍😘😎certainly know how to make a fic author feel special. ❤️
> 
> warnings for this chapter: masturbation, dry humping, blow jobs, hair pulling, frottage, and most importantly, YEARNING

Caleb wakes up warm, with Essek beside him.

The elf is...asleep, he supposes. His eyes are closed, but his breathing is light, less like a deep slumber and more like his eyes are just closed. And that must be it, too, for Caleb can barely enjoy the sight of him--hair mused, silk shirt and pants, serene expression, so different from the put-together Essek he sees most days--before Essek’s eyes are open again, and on him.

He looks different in the morning. Feral, almost. His eyes are their normal silver color but there is a gleem to them: are they darker, maybe?-- and his fangs seem sharper as he smiles at Caleb.

“Humans sleep for  _ forever _ ,” Essek says, breathless already, even though Caleb has barely been awake more than a moment. The elf scoots closer, so that his head rests on Caleb’s shoulder. Essek’s body is  _ warm _ to the touch, like a fever to the skin, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “I tranced, and then I woke up, and you were  _ still _ asleep, so I just decided to wait for you,” he starts kissing him on the shoulder, small kisses along the line of freckles that decorate Caleb’s skin.

Caleb blinks the sleep from his eyes, not quite convinced that he’s not still dreaming. “I’m sorry you had to wait so long,” he says blearily, not quite sure what to say while Essek is peppering kisses against his skin. 

“‘S okay,” Essek mumbles, making his way from Caleb’s shoulder to his chest. “I wanted to wake you,” he kisses lower still, teasing, kissing right above the nipple. “But I made myself wait. But you are awake now,” he takes the nipple into his mouth, tracing his nipple with his tongue. He gets a moan out of Caleb before he stops, lifting his head to lay his chin on his chest. “My heat has started already.”

“I noticed,” Caleb groans. He is usually hard in the mornings anyway, but having Essek like this--mostly on top of him, teasing him already even though he’s just woken up--and his erection is almost impossible to ignore.

“I thought the preventative would take longer to leave my system,” Essek says, kissing at Caleb’s neck. His voice is strange, because he still  _ sounds _ like Essek--scientific, methodical--even as he’s sucking a bruise into Caleb’s skin. “But it didn’t even last the night. I had to touch myself before I could even trance.”

“Should’ve woken me,” Caleb moans as Essek’s fangs pierce his neck. His arms find their way to Essek’s waist, lifting the silk shirt slightly, marveling at the heat of his skin beneath his fingers. “It’s what I’m here for.”

“You helped already,” Essek teases, pulling away from Caleb’s neck so that he can kiss his chin. “I watched you sleep as I touched myself,” he kisses him on the mouth, now, tongue first, like he can’t move fast enough, his body betraying the intensity of his desires. “That’s not too strange, is it?” Essek asks, pulling away long enough to talk before kissing him again. Caleb’s hands play with the skin of Essek’s back under his shirt, enjoying the contrasting textures between the silk of his shirt and the smoothness of his skin. “I don’t mean for it to be. I couldn’t help it. I  _ want  _ you,” Essek pulls away slowly, like it’s taking all of his restraint to do so. “So badly, I can hardly stand it.”

Caleb sits up slightly, in part so he can kiss Essek better, chasing the elf’s intensity of desire with his own. “It’s fine,” he says, and he can’t touch enough of Essek--his shirt is in the way. “You are overdressed.”

In one motion, Essek tosses his silk shirt to the side with little care, and straddles Caleb instead, both of his legs on either side of Caleb’s hips. Positioned like this, their erections touch, even through both of their pants. Caleb groans at the contact, desperate for friction, even if he’s distracted by the sight of Essek’s chest.

He’s thinner than Caleb, and so his form is willowy. Scrawny, but not overly skinny--there’s a small little pudge of belly fat on his tummy--but rather it’s like his bones are thin. His nipples are a dark purple color, darker than the rest of his skin, and hardened from his arousal. And there is so little hair anywhere on his body, minus a small white trail on his stomach leading downward.

So he looks like an elf, then, with elvish characteristics, and Caleb can hardly be embarrassed by his lack of foresight because Essek is  _ kissing  _ him, again, and every time he moves they  _ touch _ , and it feels so good, Caleb never wants it to stop.

So he grabs Essek’s hips and forces him down, so their their cocks rub against one another through their stupid clothing. Essek gasps into the kiss, so Caleb does it again, and again. He wishes he and Essek were naked, so that they could touch each other freely, but to do so would mean that they would have to stop kissing, and such a thought feels unacceptable. 

Caleb moves from Essek’s mouth to his chest, kissing his way down even as he thrusts his hips upward, desperate for Essek’s touch. He takes a dark purple nipple into his mouth, sucking on it gently as Essek moans desperately.

“Please,” he gasps, thrusting downward with greater speed. “ _ Please _ , I’m so close,”

“Shh,” Caleb promises, pressing against Essek as tightly as he can, rocking against him. He slides his hand lower and squeeze’s Essek’s ass through his clothes, enjoying the thickness of him in his hands, and squeezes again.

Essek comes like a bolt of lightning in a storm, and Caleb follows soon, and together they are messy, sweaty, sticky, tangled up next to one another, sheets encircling their legs. For a moment, they do nothing but lie there, trying to catch their breath as they come down from the high.

Not a bad way to wake up, certainly, and he rolls over to tell Essek as such when he notices the drow is out like a light, snoring softly beside him.

He laughs quietly, tickled by the image. There is drool running down Essek’s chin, and his snores are undignified, and his hair is standing every which way, so very different from the polished young man who normally escorts them. It’s impossibly adorable, and endlessly endearing, so much so that he spends a few minutes just lying there, watching Essek sleep.

After a few minutes, he works to detangle himself from both elf and sheets. He needs to pee, and maybe burn his pants, as he doesn’t know that he can ever wear them again, come-stained as they are now.

He walks to Essek’s bathroom--well, first he opens a door that leads to one of the other towers, notices the torrential downpour of rain outside, and shuts the door quickly, less the weather wake his companion up--but when he opens the  _ right _ door, he finds an elegant bathroom awaiting him. There is an amethyst stone bathtub with gold embellishments, and a simple stone shower on the other side that seems as though it’s used a bit more. His sink is made of glass mosaic of blue and gold colored glass, a copper bowl above pouring water into the glass below. The walls themselves are stone, like the rest of the tower, but the gemstone of the bath materials make the walls seem to shimmer, slightly, reflecting the sparkle of the gemstones, especially once Caleb casts  _ dancing lights  _ so he can see.

It’s a very pretty effect. It’s also intimidating as hell.

It takes Caleb forever to figure out how the shower works, and even longer to figure out how to regulate the temperature. It’s  _ so  _ cold at first, and then it’s too hot, then too cold again before he finally decides he’ll live with it being too hot. He dresses simply when he exits--underwear, shirt, trousers--and forgoes socks or shoes, because he figures he probably won’t leave the house today.

When he returns to Essek’s bedroom, the drow is awake again, though still in bed, and seems more like himself: his eyes are brighter, and when he smiles at Caleb, he looks a little sheepish. “Good morning,” he says softly, covering his chest with the sheet, as if Caleb didn’t just spend most of the morning so far adding bruises to his delicate form. 

“Good morning,” Caleb returns, setting his bag of clothes down by Essek’s dresser. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Essek says sheepishly. “A little tired. A bit embarrassed.”

Out of idle curiosity, Caleb examines one of the books Essek brought in last night that’s still sitting on the dresser-- _ The Daring Trials and Tribulations of Sir Taryon Darrington  _ catching his eye and sounding familiar at the same time. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about,” Caleb says softly, flipping through the pages, mostly admiring the artwork. “This is what we agreed upon, yes? And you sound more like yourself now.”

“I  _ feel  _ more like myself,” Essek admits. Hesitantly, he lowers the sheet from his chest, revealing himself once again to Caleb. “That was--strange. Like being drunk, almost, but horny.” He swings his legs off the side of the bed, his silk pants clinging to his form and leaving very little to the imagination, including a large wet spot on his crotch. Not that Caleb was looking, of course. “Um, were you finished in the bathroom, or…?”

“Oh! Ja,” Caleb rubs the back of his head softly. “I didn’t mean to take that long. Your shower is a little finicky.”

“It can be difficult to get the temperature right,” Essek smiles, walking closer to Caleb. He begins to pull clothes out of the dresser behind Caleb, and Caleb, for his part, tries to pretend as though he isn’t looking at Essek’s underwear drawer, and instead keeps flipping through the book as nonchalantly as he can, ignoring the growing redness to his cheeks.

His drawers closed, his clothing bundled in his arms, Essek turns towards Caleb again. “Caleb?” he says quietly, forcing Caleb to close the book he was mostly pretending to read. “Thank you.” He kisses his cheek sweetly, and then pulls away. “I’ll see you downstairs for breakfast in a few minutes?” he offers Caleb, a compromise for the blush on his face.

“Ja. I’ll head down there in a few.”

Essek leaves the room, and Caleb tries to ignore the way his stomach flutters like butterflies as he does so.

* * *

Breakfast is a compromise: Essek has all the ingredients necessary to make a [Zemnian baby pancake](https://cooking.nytimes.com/recipes/6648-dutch-baby), and Caleb hasn’t had once in _years_ but knows his mutter’s recipe by heart, even if it has been over a decade since he’s last tasted it.

Essek insists on helping, of course, because it’s his kitchen, and Caleb is his guest. He’s a bit clueless in the kitchen, though--it’s clear he doesn’t actually cook very often. 

“It’s not that I don’t know how,” Essek tries to explain, a flush to his face as he fishes out eggshells from the batter. “It’s that I never have  _ time  _ to cook, so I eat out or get take out or live off of shelf stable food to get by.”

“Because you are the Shadowhand,” Caleb acknowledges, folding flour into eggs. “How does that work with this, anyway? Are you allowed time off for your heat?”

“Yes,” Essek explains, pouring a bit more sugar than necessary into the batter. “Anyone is allowed time off for their heat. It’s a--it’s a part of my people’s biology, remember? Someone else is covering for me this week.” He sighs with relief as he hands the bowl over to Caleb, who squeezes just a little lemon into the batter. “Honestly, I’m grateful for it. With the war and everything, I’ve hardly had any time off. And while this isn’t what I’d normally choose to do with my time off, at least I’m not at work, you know?”

“I get what you mean,” Caleb says, carefully removing the hot pan from the oven. “I love travelling with the Nein, too, but sometimes it’s nice to have a little downtime, ja? Getting to stay in one place for a while.” 

Last time the Nein had downtime, they were stuck in Rexxentrum, and that was hardly a relaxing week for Caleb, forever jumping at shadows, everywhere. 

It’s strange. In some ways, the Dynasty is full of shadows, what with its eternal darkness, but Caleb never feels like he has to jump, here.

Gently, he pours the batter into the hot pan, watching as it immediately starts to sizzle. Essek’s eyes follow him with amusement as he places the hot pan back into the oven, the heat regulated by magic.

“And now we wait while it bakes?” Essek asks for clarification. “What are we supposed to do in the meantime?”

There’s a bit of flour on Essek’s nose. He should probably tell him, but right now the image is too endearing. “We do dishes,” Caleb laughs, gesturing to the small mountain of dirty plates and bowls they’ve managed to create. Normally, there aren’t this many dishes with the recipe, but the first bowl they got out was too small, and then the second was entirely too big, and then they accidentally put sugar in the wrong bowl, and before they knew it there was a stack of dirty dishes. 

Essek scrunches his nose with displeasure. “ _ Prestidigitation  _ is a cantrip.”

“And soapy water won’t make you melt,” Caleb teases, as he starts running water in the sink. With a swirl of his hand,  _ produce flame  _ warms the water to an agreeable temperature. He flicks a little bit of hot water at Essek as he scowls. “Come on. I’ll wash, you dry.”

Together, they work in sync, a perfect sort of harmony, as if they’ve been doing this for years. Caleb washes a dish then hands it over to Essek, who dries it off with a towel and puts it away in the cabinets above. Only once does Essek drop a dish that Caleb hands him, splashing it into the hot soapy water that immediately rises up and splashes on Caleb’s shirt. 

“Sorry!” Essek squeaks, and Caleb laughs. 

“It’s fine,” he says, though he is a little concerned about not having another shirt to change into (though he  _ swore _ he packed more). A little playfully, he takes some of the water and splashes Essek, too, so that they are both wet, now.

Immediately, Essek’s fangs show in his grin, as he dips his hands in the soapy water and splashes it towards Caleb’s face, and then it’s  _ on _ , as they take turns splashing each other, the dishes abandoned for a greater pursuit, to see which one of them can soak the other faster. 

It’s all fun and games, until it’s  _ not _ , suddenly, and Essek’s eyes grow dark again, and before he knows it Caleb’s back is pressed against the countertop, and Essek is all around him, kissing him deeply, his hands around Caleb’s back, running underneath his shirt. They are wet, the fabric clinging to both of them, but it doesn’t matter, really, because Essek’s tongue is running against his and all of Caleb’s blood is rushing southward.

They pull apart long enough to throw their shirts to the floor before Essek sinks to his knees, and god, Caleb is going to  _ die _ , it isn’t fair, how can one person be so beautiful? He’s distracted by Essek’s eyelashes, his sharpness of his nose, the way he gently presses kisses against his chest, his stomach, trailing downward, and--

“I want to please you,” Essek pants, his voice desperate and wanting. He brushes his nose against Caleb’s crotch, and he  _ groans _ , loudly at the contact. “Please, let me--”

“ _ Yes _ ,” Caleb breathes, hands shaking as he goes to undo his belt. He does not know that he has ever taken his pants off faster in his life. He doesn’t even get his pants completely off before Essek’s mouth is on him, pressing kisses and licking against his length.

“D-don’t tease,” Caleb gasps, his fingers finding a place to hold onto in Essek’s undercut. In some ways, he hates this: he hates how weak he feels, how  _ fast _ he’s become reduced like this. He’s not the one in heat but the way things have gone so far he feels like he might as well be. He feels primal, animalistic, unable to control himself; but Essek’s mouth is warm, wet, and  _ tight _ , and it takes everything in Caleb not to fuck his mouth, to not thrust into him over and over and over again. 

Essek  _ moans _ though, his mouth full of Caleb’s cock, the sound of pleasure escaping, and Caleb has to brace himself against the counter behind him to keep himself standing. 

Essek’s nose is buried in the red hair of his groin, swallowing him whole, with no intent to  _ stop _ , how can he even breathe? But Caleb’s brain can’t work right now, cannot focus on anything other than the intense pleasure strumming through his body.

He  _ will _ not last. It’s a little amazing that he’s this hard again, already, given the excitement from this morning already, but Essek’s mouth sucks at him greedily, like he can’t quite get enough of the taste of him.

“I’m---I’m gonna,” he gasps, trying not to pull of Essek’s hair any tighter than he already has. He tries to warn him, his toes curling, back bruising from the way he’s pressed against the counter, but Essek doesn’t move away, and when he comes he sees stars.

  
Essek swallows, and he feels like he could come again at the sight of him, on his knees, his eyes closed contently, a little bit of Caleb’s come leaking out the side of his mouth.

The calm after his organism does not last long; Essek  _ whines _ , high pitched and breathless, and he starts rutting against Caleb’s leg, the hard line of his cock visible in his pants. 

That won’t do. He won’t leave his lover unsatisfied, especially not after that hell of an orgasm. 

Caleb sinks to the floor of Essek’s kitchen, and pulls Essek into his lap. He kisses him deeply, tasting himself on his tongue, and his hand finds their way into Essek’s trousers, wrapping around his cock, pumping him quickly. “You’re doing so good,” he whispers encouragingly, nibbling on Essek’s ear. He takes his hand out and licks a line straight on his palm before he grabs him again, stroking him once more. He wishes he had thought to bring lubricant downstairs; somewhere on the counter there’s cooking oil, but it’s far away, and he has a squirming, incredibly hard drow in his lap; spit and his right hand will have to do.

_ “Caleb _ ,” Essek breathes, panting, pulling his pants low enough that his cock is free for Caleb to touch. “Please, gods,  _ please _ \--”

“You are doing so well, liebling,” Caleb kisses down the side of Essek’s neck, his hand still toying with Essek’s cock, enjoying the weight and feel of him in his hands. “Won’t you come for me?”

Essek whines, high pitched and desperate, precome leaking from him. Inspiration strikes Caleb suddenly, as he teases him with a bite to his ear, his hand working him. “It would please me, if you’d come.”

Essek screams as he comes, white hot cum coating Caleb’s hand and Essek’s stomach, and when he finishes he flops boneless, his head on the kitchen floor, letting Caleb cradle the rest of his body in his lap.

They lay like that for a few minutes--Caleb leaning against the cabinet, Essek partially in his lap while drooling on the kitchen floor, and they try and catch their breaths. Caleb’s pants are still around his ankles, and his hand is sticky, but he finds he doesn’t mind it too much, because Essek is mostly naked in his lap, his shirt gone and his pants pulled down low enough to expose his cock. Even soft and exhausted, Essek is beautiful, and Caleb finds himself admiring his body, now that he has a moment to study it with more detail. He commits it to memory--the light colored hair of his groin, neatly trimmed, the tiny pudge of belly fat, the way his belly button points outward instead of inward. 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Essek groans, breaking the silence, causing Caleb to snort in response. “Ah, fuck, I’m not ever going to get used to this.”

Caleb, on the other hand, feels like he could get  _ very _ used to this, especially since Essek is still mostly naked in his lap, and seems disinclined to move. He leans forward and presses a light kiss to Essek’s belly. “You feel alright?”

“I  _ just _ ,” Essek flops his arm over his face, so that Caleb can only just barely see the blush on his cheeks. He looks like he wants to say something, but stops himself, rubbing his face with his hands instead. “I’ll be alright, I suppose.”

“ _ Just _ alright?”

“Yeah,” Essek laughs, and then sits up, sliding off of Caleb’s lap, much to his disappointment. “And you?”

“Better than alright,” Caleb wiggles his eyebrows as Essek sits up against the cabinet next to him. “That was--that was  _ quite _ nice.” 

“Yeah?”

“Mmm, yes.”

“I’m glad I could please you,” Essek teases, and then they are kissing again. There’s less heat to it, this time--they are more focused on exploring each other than they are chasing release. He feels like a teenager again, dizzy and excitable, kissing Essek just to kiss him, because he likes the way his mouth feels pressed against his own.

It’s only as they start to smell something burning that they remember they were cooking breakfast down here, before they got so distracted.

* * *

_ “Prestidigitation _ ,” Essek says pointedly, casting the spell repeatedly, rapid-fire, cleaning all the rest of the dishes in about a minute. “See how easy that was? If we had worked together, we would have gotten that done in half the time. And  _ you  _ wanted to wash dishes by hand.”

Ah, but washing the dishes by hand had let them  _ touch  _ each other, had let them play, had led to Essek’s heat triggering for the second time that morning. Caleb had no regrets. 

“You are forgetting one important element,  _ schatz _ ,” Caleb grins coyly, bringing another pile of dirty plates to Essek’s elbow.

“And that is?” his lover asks, eyebrow raised as he cleans the plates with magic, and puts them away with levitation.

Caleb kisses his cheek. “I don’t know that spell.”

“YOU DON’T KNOW  _ PRESTIDIGITATION?” _

* * *

After breakfast, Essek makes Caleb take a potion, and takes one for himself, as well. “A precaution,” he warns, taking the stamina potion, a vibrant blue liquid, and swallowing it in one gulp. “I don’t know if the heat will strike again today, but we should be prepared, just in case.”

Caleb agrees, and so he swallows his own potion with little trouble. 

After that, the day is normal, if not a little boring given the morning’s adventure. Essek insists on teaching Caleb  _ prestidigitation _ , claiming that “every wizard everywhere, throughout all of time and space” knew that spell, and Caleb was at a disservice, not knowing it.

He thought, for a little bit, that they might kiss again, that Essek’s heat would trigger while he copied the spell, but it didn’t. Essek is a consummate gentleman, much to Caleb’s secret disappointment. 

They share a light lunch and talk briefly; Caleb learns that Essek is the youngest of eight siblings--or rather,  _ was _ the youngest, but he has an infant sister now, a product of his mother’s newest marriage. “Honestly, I forget that she exists most of the time,” Essek tells him, and Caleb is struck, suddenly, but how very lonely Essek seems. “I spent a hundred and eighteen years being the youngest of eight. I forget now that I’m technically the second youngest of nine.”

Caleb doesn’t know much about family--his parents have been dead almost longer than they were alive in Caleb’s life, at this point--but he can’t imagine being like Essek, having a baby sister and forgetting she even exists, because he’s so disconnected from his family. It makes Caleb sad for Essek, that this place, his home, is so distant and lonely for him that he has these connections, but they mean almost nothing to him.

If Essek just  _ left _ , how long would it take for anyone here to notice?

A comment on the taste of the stamina potion in comparison to lunch leads to an alchemy lesson; Essek drags Caleb to the work tower and starts teaching Caleb the basics of alchemy. It’s never been something Caleb has been enthusiastic about, more Nott’s hobby than his own. But Essek is clearly passionate about it, and so Caleb listens closely as his friend lists off ingredients, herbs and effects. 

Essek would make an excellent teacher, Caleb thinks suddenly. He’s passionate and creative and  _ loves _ sharing knowledge; once again, Caleb is struck by how sad their lives have turned out instead: in an ideal world, they would both be teaching at some prestigious magical university. Instead, his friend spends his days torturing people and gathering information on behalf of his queen, and Caleb spends his own days wandering, fighting monsters as he travels place to place instead.

It’s not fair, that this is the hand fate has dealt them.

Under Essek’s careful tutelage, Caleb crafts his own healing potion; it’s weak, and would be practically  _ useless  _ in a combat situation, but it causes the bruises on his back to fade. In some ways he’s a little sad to lose them--he enjoyed the reminder of what he and Essek got up to this morning--though he is grateful to no longer be in pain.

They retire to the library after that, and  _ still _ Essek’s heat hasn’t triggered, much to Caleb's disappointment. Maybe it’s the stamina potion and its effect on him, but Caleb thought they would be together again before now, considering it’s been hours since they last copulated. Beneath his skin is a low hum of  _ want _ , a constant source of desire, a wellspring waiting to gush, but he waits.

Patience has always been a friend to him, after all.

Essek still wants him close, thankfully, just in case, so while they grab two separate books they cuddle close on the couch, in front of the fireplace, Essek’s head on his shoulder. It’s...an odd feeling, cuddling with Essek, but it’s no stranger than anything he’s done with the rest of the Nein, and he hasn’t slept with any of them. In some ways, he likes the domesticity of it, the pleasure of just having another person close to him, physically. Outside, the rain continues to downpour, and with the crackling of the fire and Essek’s steady breathing, the quiet isn’t unbearable at all, but pleasant and welcome.

He summons Frumpkin to his lap, just to make the evening more perfect.

Cat in his lap, elf on his shoulder, and book in his hand, Caleb leans back, eager to enjoy what has all the makings of a fantastic evening. He cracks open his book--an academic work, a theoretical understanding of the origins of magic, which he chose in part for the subject matter, and in part to gain a deeper understanding of the Krynn’s way of magic.

Ten minutes in, he’s bored to tears.

The author is just so  _ dry _ ; the theoretical aspects of the origins of magic should be a fascinating subject, but he just can’t bring himself to  _ care _ , at the moment. It’s his own fault, really; he should have chosen something a bit closer aligned to his interests, or something fictional, at the very least. Or maybe he should have known better than to try and read anything academic with Essek so close to him, close enough that Caleb can smell the citrus from Essek’s shampoo.

So instead of reading, he studies Essek instead, a task that is quickly becoming his favorite hobby. 

Essek is handsome, a fact that Caleb has always known, but now he gets to study him, uninterrupted. His face is angular and sharp, and his cheekbones are high on his face. His hair is curly and soft, and Caleb wants nothing more than to run his hands through it again. Unlike Caleb, he doesn’t have freckles on his face: his skin is completely unmarred, smooth and soft to the touch. His eyelashes are incredibly long, fluttering lightly as his silvered eyes scan the pages of his book. His skin is soft to the touch, unlike Caleb’s calloused and scarred hands, and his hair smells nice, not at all like the dirt, mud, and grime Caleb often has to muddle through in his travels.

He is terribly beautiful, and once again, Caleb is struck by insecurity, and how  _ inadequate  _ he must seem next to someone as glorious as Essek.

In attempt to distract himself, he looks down at Essek’s body instead of his pretty face. He has nice hands; his fingers are long and well-manicured, delicate as they turn the page of his book. He gets distracted thinking about his hands for a moment, his mind wandering to different scenarios where Essek’s fingers may wander. 

Out of mild curiosity, Caleb finds himself looking from Essek’s fine fingers to what Essek is reading, trying to figure out what has managed to engross the drow so completely.

_ Oh _ .

Essek is reading pornography.

Or, at the very least, something  _ terribly  _ smutty. The page he’s on right now discusses a  _ throbbing manhood _ and  _titillation_ ,  _ breathless touches _ and  _ sensitive skin _ .

Caleb feels his face flush immediately; Essek, however, seems unaffected as he turns to the next page, continuing to read.

Curious now, Caleb finds himself reading over Essek’s shoulder, no longer even pretending to read his own book. Frumpkin jumps from his lap to explore a warmer armchair, while Caleb finds himself engrossed in the descriptions. The author’s writing is not the best, really, but there are some good bits, although Caleb does find himself counting the number of arms the characters have, and trying to figure out exactly what sort of position they are in, because human bodies don’t bend the way the author is describing them.

He likes it, though, because the characters are very clearly in love with each other, even if they haven’t admitted it to one another yet; the sexual tension is as much a distraction from their feelings as it is a release for their affection.

“Enjoying my book, Widogast?” Essek finally asks, turning his head just slightly so he can look Caleb in the eye, distracting Caleb from the phrase  _ craving the fullness of him _ . 

Caleb flushes immediately. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve been reading,” he’s forgotten the name of his own book. “This one.” He closes it and waves it slightly. 

“You haven’t turned a page in twenty minutes,” Essek teases, placing his bookmark and closing the book he’s reading, much to Caleb’s slight frustration. “I’m disappointed in you, Caleb. A hundred and twenty pages of character development, and you skip it just for the naughty bits.”

“They were good naughty bits,” Caleb claims, even though he knows he’s lying. It wasn’t quite as bad as  _ Tusk Love _ , but it was close. He gets an eyeroll out of Essek, who puts both his and Caleb’s book on the end table beside him. 

“I’ve read better, really,” he confesses, stretching slightly, arms stretched over his head as he yawns. 

In the firelight, Essek’s silver eyes seem almost golden, Caleb’s favorite color, and it takes nothing at all for Caleb to lean over and kiss him. Essek seems surprised at first, but it doesn’t take long for Essek’s long arms wrap around him almost instantly as he kisses him back. It’s a soft kiss, gentle and tender, a cautionary surface exploration of Essek’s lips pressed against his own.

It’s amazing how quickly Essek’s heat can trigger, because what starts as a sweet kiss soon transforms into a passionate one, Caleb’s tongue tracing its way into Essek’s mouth. He pulls the drow into his lap, feeling his hardness grind against him, his hands tracing his way along Essek’s back, his hips, his ass. Essek’s tongue grapples with his own as Essek’s long, beautiful fingers play with the stubble on Caleb’s chin.

_Upstairs,_ Caleb thinks, his pants tight as Essek's fingers crawl from his cheeks to his neck. _We should go upstairs._

It’s a solid plan, even if it does involve them separating for a moment. Caleb finds it in him to pull away, to slide Essek off of him, in spite of Essek’s mews of protest. He grabs at Essek’s hands instead, pulling him up off the couch. The motion of pulling Essek up forces him closer, and when Essek stands, he wraps himself around Caleb again, his hands finding their way into Caleb’s hair, undoing his ponytail.

At this rate, they are going to have sex on the floor again, and while he’s okay with that in some ways, he also knows Essek’s bedroom isn’t exactly far. “I want to see you, bitte,” Caleb crones, pulling away from Essek so he can kiss his ear again. He feels a little manipulative, but he also knows that just upstairs is a warm bed that will be much, much more comfortable on his back. “I want to see you in bed with me. Can you do that for me, please?”

Essek whines, high-pitched and desperate, but he manages to open the door to the stairway. He doesn’t stray far from Caleb at all, never more than an arm’s reach away, and nearly always touching. His hands trail Caleb’s chest, pulling off his shirt and throwing it down the stairs.

Caleb does not critique him for floating, this time. Quite frankly, he’s a little jealous he can’t float as well, his own feet dragging as he tries to force himself to take the steps one at a time, wishing he could just teleport to Essek’s bed already.

They’d move faster if they stopped stopping to touch each other, needing desperately to kiss again and again and again, peeling layer by layer off, uncaring of the mess they are trailing on the stairwell. Essek’s socks are left on the third stair; his sweater on the sixth, and Caleb’s pants on the ninth, but Essek’s pants are still on, and that’s just unacceptable, in Caleb’s opinion.

He shoves Essek against the wall, finding it easy to move him since he’s floating, almost weightless in Caleb’s arms. His mouth finds Essek’s neck, and he bites and sucks, tasting the salty-sweat of his skin, running his tongue across his clavicle. Essek’s whine is delicious and breathless, desperate, even as Essek’s fingers find their way into Caleb’s hair, pulling tightly, and pulling  _ tighter _ when Caleb cups his length, undoing the buttons on his pants. 

“I want you naked,” Caleb orders, exposing the desire that’s run through him all day long. “I want to see all of you,  _ please _ ,”

With Caleb’s orders, Essek strips, undoing the buttons on his pants with little grace, shimmering out of them clumsily. Essek naked is even more beautiful than Essek normally; with a whole picture, Caleb can admire him in the details: the way his cock stands at full length, eager for attention. The shine of sweat glimmering against his skin. The desperate look on his face, his eyes trailing Caleb’s form.

He’s so focused on Caleb that he trips going up the last stair, falling ass-first on the top of the stairs. Caleb pounces, kneeling a step or two under him, so that he can lean over Essek completely, arms on either side of him, cornering him like a wounded animal.

“ _ Please _ ,” Essek breathes, laying his head down on the floor of his bedroom behind him. 

“Do you want me to touch you?” Caleb asks, teases, no longer touching him but he’s so  _ close _ , a hair’s breath away, and it would be  _ nothing  _ to lean forward and touch him--hell, gravity itself seems to prefer it that way.

But Caleb holds his weight above him, instead. 

Essek doesn’t answer, but whines instead, high pitched and needy, lifting himself up to try and touch Caleb.

But Caleb shoves him roughly down instead. 

“You can come when I say you can come,” he tells Essek, surprised by his own boldness. It’s because he’s been strung up all day thanks to the potion, he tells himself, and then Essek had the audacity to act  _ normal _ instead of horny, like him, all  _ fucking  _ day. 

Essek doesn’t seem to mind, though, because he gasps breathlessly underneath him. “ _ Please _ touch me,” he begs, sweating profusely. That must be another side effect of the heat, like his darkened eyes and his sharper fangs, but Caleb didn’t notice earlier, too engrossed by the feeling of touching him to notice the other physiological changes.

He wonders if there’s anything else he’s missed, any other side effects he has to look forward to.

“Good boy,” he says, and grabs Essek’s cock, rubbing him tightly, enjoying the feel of his thickness in his hands. It’s not enough to just touch him, though; Caleb has been full of want for  _ hours  _ now, and so he pulls his own cock into his hands, rubbing it against Essek’s, his hand holding the two of them together.  _ This _ is what he wanted, this friction, hours earlier, when Essek woke him up this morning, but their clothes were in the way, and he was too full of want to remove them.

Now, though? Now he’s already had two orgasms today, and he’s on his way to a third, so he can stand to have a little more patience.

He kisses his way down Essek’s neck, enjoying the little noises of pleasure escaping from his lips. Essek’s cock is leaking precome, making his hands slick as he grinds up and down against him, enjoying the angle of the stairs, the way it allows him to thrust down on Essek. 

His knees will hurt later, more than likely, but right now it’s worth the pain, grinding against Essek.

“You are so pretty like this, liebling,” he kisses his chest, licking one of his nipples playfully. “I wonder, how long can you last like this?”

“N-not long,” Essek gasps, thrusting his hips upward, desperate for Caleb’s touch. “P-please, Caleb, I--”

Caleb thrusts faster then, enjoying the way Essek sounds, needy and full of want, and when his own orgasm hits it surprises him how quickly he topples over the edge, seeing stars as he calls out Essek’s name.

He collapses on top of him, breathing heavily, sated with pleasure, and it’s only when Essek starts squirming that he realizes Essek hasn’t come yet, and he’s still infuriatingly hard against Caleb’s stomach. 

Softly, he kisses Essek’s collarbone, licking playfully at a bruise he’s left pressed in Essek’s skin. “Come for me, lovely,” he whispers, his hand wrapping around Essek’s cock, jerking him off. Post-orgasm, he moves slowly and sensually, lacking the rush he had earlier, even as Essek thrusts desperately in his hand, eager for release.

He comes quickly; selfishly, Caleb wonders if the only thing that kept him from coming earlier was Caleb’s permission.

An experiment for tomorrow, he thinks tiredly, pressing gentle kisses along Essek’s skin, no longer chasing release but enjoying the intimacy of being so close to him. He wraps his arms around Essek’s back, pulling him close so that he can hold him.

Essek doesn’t fall asleep immediately this time. Instead, he blinks down at Caleb’s lazy kisses against his chest, and pulls his head up gently, both hands on the side of his face so that he can kiss him on the mouth. They lay there for several minutes, trading lazy kisses and tender caresses, enjoying the feeling of being so close to another person.

When they finally pull away, Essek’s smile is soft and bright. “Come to bed with me,” he asks, his fingers entangling with Caleb’s own. 

Caleb is helpless but to follow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's about the intimacy, y'all.
> 
> Some rapid fire answers to some of your questions:
> 
> Do you know long is the story going to be? Not a clue. It's already longer than I thought it would be. Each chapter has been about 6k in length, although I make no promises to be consistent there.
> 
> Updating on a schedule or post as you go? Post as I go. This chapter got out fast because I already had it half-written when I posted the first chapter. There may be a bit of a delay in between now and the next update, but I will try to write as quick as I can.
> 
> Comments are greatly appreciated. <3


	3. day two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I've been both busy and sick most of this month, which makes writing difficult. Hopefully, it is worth the wait. 
> 
> for this chapter: anal, masturbation with a dildo, fingering in a bathroom, hair pulling, inappropriate use of spell components

Caleb wakes up because he hears Essek moan.

At first, he thinks he must have dreamed it, because he’s become so attuned to the sound these past twenty-four hours. But then he hears it  _ again _ , and that’s what makes him open his eyes.

Blearily, he rubs the sleep from his eyes, and casts  _ dancing lights  _ on instinct, determined to see what’s going on in the pitch black darkness of Essek’s bedroom.

Sure enough, his drow is in heat again. He recognizes it instantly; the sweat on his brow, the sharpness of his fangs and the darkness in his eyes. There’s a different scent, too, different from usual, or perhaps it’s just because they are in Essek’s bed, for once.

He blinks once, twice, as Essek gasps loudly, his hand wrapped around his own cock. “ _ Caleb _ .”

He’s masturbating again, just like he did the night before, or so Caleb assumes. Only he’s not just jerking himself off--he’s got something dark in color and slick inside of him that he’s moving rapidly, back and forth, back and forth.

_ Oh _ , what a nice view to wake up to.

“You should have woken me,” Caleb mumbles, still not entirely convinced he’s not asleep still, especially since Essek isn’t stopping. He rolls over on top of Essek, taking his cock into his hand and jerking him quietly. “That’s why I’m here.”

“You were  _ asleep _ ,” Essek whines, high pitched and needy, focusing instead of playing with the toy inside of him now that Caleb is able to assist. “I didn’t want t-to be r-r-uu _ oooh _ ,  _ Caleb,”  _ he gasps as Caleb grabs the toy himself, pressing it sharply. 

There’s a low hum of arousal in him--how could there not be, when Essek is  _ here _ looking like  _ that _ \--but the exhaustion from yesterday mixed with the sleepiness means his body isn’t as interested as he feels. He peppers kisses against Essek’s neck, biting and sucking while his hands continue their masterations. Lazily, he pumps the toy in and out of Essek while his other hand caresses his cock, his touch alternating between feather light and sharp, sudden.

It does not take long for Essek to come; he was close before Caleb woke up, and now it’s taken very little from Caleb to push him over the edge.

“This is a pretty thing,” Caleb hums, pulling the dildo out with a soft  _ pop _ , enjoying the gasp Essek makes. It’s a pretty replica of a cock--Caleb can’t quite place the material, like glass but more flexible, but it’s a good size and a pretty color. It’s slightly smaller than Caleb is, actually, but not by much, and seeing it in his hand fills him with ideas. “Where did you get this?”

Essek’s eyes are still dark; with the  _ dancing lights  _ above them, his sweat seems almost to sparkle. “I have a  _ collection _ ,” he confesses, giggling like a schoolgirl, like he’s telling Caleb a naughty secret, and Caleb realizes belatedly that he is, in some respect. 

“Oh?” Caleb grins. He’s overly warm at the moment, Essek’s sweat on his shoulder where the drow has laid his head. “I thought you didn’t like sex normally.”

“I don’t,” Essek curls against him. “I like to masterbate, though.”

“Same thing!”

“It’s not,” Essek tells him with a soft laugh. “I’ll show you,” Essek yawns, stretching slightly before wrapping his arms around Caleb’s chest. “Tomorrow sometime.”

And then he’s asleep again. Caleb takes a bit longer to fall asleep himself, distracted as he is now by the thought that Essek has more than one of those toys on the nightstand, enough to call it a  _ collection _ .

* * *

He isn’t sure what time it is when he wakes up again. There’s a lamp on, soft and dim on Essek’s desk across the room, which tells him Essek is awake, but the eternal night of Rosohna means he has  _ no  _ idea what time it is. He feels lazy though, and lethargic, enthusiastic about the fact that he doesn’t actually have to get up and  _ do  _ anything today.

(Well, besides Essek, but that’s hardly a chore.)

So instead, he lays about and daydreams. His mind wanders to various things: the book he was reading with Essek last night, and how it will end. What he and Essek will eat later in the day. Spellwork, and what it might take for the newest spell he’s crafted to function properly. He thinks about the Mighty Nein for a little bit, too--he wonders how they are doing, if they miss him terribly, if he’ll have to break one or more of them out of jail before the week is over.

As he muses about his friends, his mind wanders to something Beau said, a few weeks back, about what they’ll do when the Mighty Nein eventually go their separate ways. She was talking about the Hag, and making a deal to leave in order to cause her own misery. At the time, Caleb thought she was ridiculous, and he still thinks that now. He  _ loves  _ the Nein, and he doesn’t plan on leaving them any time soon. 

Before now, he’s always assumed that they’ll just  _ never _ separate, or if they do, he’ll go with Nott, following her wherever she goes. 

Lying here in Essek’s bed, he considers a different path for himself, for the first time. A life here, in Rosohna. 

It’s a silly thought, but--

He likes dunamancy; he likes magic. He likes it  _ here _ , too, in Essek’s bed. 

Perhaps, if the Nein ever decide their adventuring days are behind them, that they are too old and gray to keep chancing death every other day, perhaps he will return here, to Rosohna. Perhaps Essek might need a research assistant? Would the drow consider letting him work with him, studying magic together, trading spell ideas and components, working side by side, as equals?

Perhaps even--

It’s just a fantasy, though, and it doesn’t get much further than that, because Essek hovers into the room, and notices he’s awake. 

“ _ Finally _ . Good morning, sleepy head,” Essek is still in his pajamas, and he makes for a funny sight--silk pants, a fluffy robe and slippers, a cup of hot tea in his hands. He sets the tea on his desk before he floats closer to the bed, sitting down on the side nearest Caleb. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah,” Caleb yawns, stretching slightly. “What time is it?”

“Like 9:30. I’ve gotten  _ so  _ much accomplished.”

“I thought you were off work?” Caleb asks seriously, sitting up in bed. He moves a pillow from beside him to his lap, covering himself slightly.

“Oh, this isn’t Shadowhand stuff. This is  _ magic _ work,” Essek’s eyes sparkle. “I have  _ ideas _ . But they can wait until later--I wanted to check on you and see if you were awake yet.”

“I am now,” Caleb smiles, and then yawns without meaning to, loud and voracious, causing Essek to laugh.

It’s a nice sound, Caleb realizes bearily. It’s a sound he wouldn’t mind hearing again and again and again.

Essek looks down at his hand, and with only the soft glow of the lamp his features seem fuzzy and dream-like. The robe he’s wearing, which looks incredibly soft, doesn’t help matters. “I was going to take a shower,” Essek says quietly, playing with the fabric of the sheets, his hand precariously close to where Caleb’s thighs are, underneath the sheets. “You said yesterday that you had trouble regulating the temperature? I could--I could show you how it works, if you’d like to join me?”

An invitation, this early in the morning, and his eyes aren’t even dark yet.

“Of course,” Caleb says, his throat dry.

* * *

Essek’s bathroom is no less intimidating the second time, and in some ways it’s worse this time, because Essek is in here with him, undressing beside him. He feels like a teenager as he clumsily pulls off his pants, folding them hastily, only because that is what Essek does with his clothes. 

Essek disrobes with no showmanship, no pazazz, just simply takes his robe, his shirt, his slippers, his undergarments, and then he’s  _ naked _ , folding his clothes neatly on the bathroom counter, not even looking at Caleb at all, as if Caleb isn’t even here, as if Caleb isn’t  _ supposed  _ to notice and admire his nude form.

His mantle does him no justice, hiding his body like it does. Naked, Essek is easily the most beautiful person Caleb has ever seen. Yesterday, he didn’t have much opportunity to admire his whole form--the curve of his bottom, the shape of his calves, the gentle grace of his arms--but here in the light of day he can soak in and admire as much of him as he pleases.

It takes everything within him to keep his body from reacting from this sight alone.

_ Stop it _ , he chides himself as he fumbles with his own pile of clothes, setting them slightly messier besides Essek’s pristine set.  _ This is your  _ **_friend_ ** _. He’s not here just for you to lust after. _

Finally, Essek turns to him as he steps in the shower, curving one finger towards himself. “Are you coming, or not?”

“Ja,” Caleb confirms, trying not to blush as he steps into the shower next to Essek. It’s a rather large, comfortable shower, really. Very spacious. Could easily fit three people, really.

  
Caleb stays near him regardless.

He’s so distracted by the sight of Essek’s body that he doesn’t even notice the drow turning on the water, and the shock of cold water on his body causes him to yelp.

“It takes a minute to heat up,” Essek chuckles, finally turning around to face Caleb. There’s the slightest bit of a dark purple blush to his face. “Sorry, I should have warned you.”

“ _ Bitte _ , yes!” Caleb screeches, jumping back about a foot, even as Essek continues to laugh at him. “I am--used to warmer climates.”

“I can imagine,” Essek grins, and lets the cold water run down his body. “I like the cold to start, if we’re being honest. It wakes me up. But if you are cold,” he runs a cold, wet hand down the front of Caleb’s chest. “I could warm you up?”

It’s meant to sound seductive, and it  _ is _ , to a certain extent, but Essek is wiggling his eyebrows sillily, and the line sounds like it came out a smutty book, and so Caleb snorts with laughter instead.

“You don’t sound too convinced there, you know.”

“I---I thought it was a good line, in the moment,” Essek giggles, leaning back against his shower wall. “I’m  _ trying  _ to seduce you.”

“I can tell. Why?”

“My heat will trigger soon,” Essek explains, as he picks up the soap nearby and begins rubbing it on his body. The water is warmer now, and it feels nice on Caleb’s skin. Not too hot, like it was yesterday. “I have a better... _ sense _ of it, today. I was hoping being naked with you would make it trigger. Instead, I’ve just made us both uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” Caleb says, honestly. He should be; showering with Essek should be a strange and uncomfortably intimate experience, but it’s no worse than anything else they’ve so far. “Have I made  _ you _ uncomfortable?”

“No! No, not at all, I just,” he flushes nervously underneath the water, parts of his chest flushing now as well, from both nerves and the hot water. “I suppose I’m just a bit embarrassed. About last night.”

Ah. With the dildo. “I--Essek, you don’t have any control over your heat. You shouldn’t feel embarrassed about--”

“I don’t like sex,” Essek blurts out suddenly. “I like it in  _ theory _ , in my imagination, but in practice, I--” he gets distracted, suddenly. “May I wash your hair?”

_ What? _ “Ummm--”

“So that I have something to do with my hands,” Essek blushes, fiddling with his hands nervously. “While I talk.”

Caleb could understand that. “Ja.” He nods.

“Could you kneel down and-- _ actually _ ,” and then Essek is taller than him, floating a good two or three inches from the shower floor. “Turn around.”

Caleb does so. Immediately, he feels gentle fingers running through his hair, softly detangling the mess on top of his head. 

“I don’t like sex,” Essek continues. “I like masterbating. I like coming. I like toys, and smut, and romance novels, but I don’t enjoy sex. It’s why I don’t have a boyfriend, and why I’ve never really sought out to have one.”

He puts shampoo in Caleb’s hair, running his hands through it, lathering. The scent catches Caleb’s attention, because it’s  _ Essek’s shampoo _ , the same citrus scent, and so Caleb will smell like Essek for the rest of the day.

He shifts his feet, a little uncomfortable. “Go on.”

“I don’t like being  _ known _ ,” Essek explains, tugging at Caleb’s hair slightly. “I’m the Shadowhand, a master of secrets. People don’t need to know things about me.”

“You don’t like being vulnerable.”

“No, I--I value my privacy, I--” He stops for a moment, his fingers caught in a tangle as he massages Caleb’s hair. “I  _ love  _ your hair.”

“Thank you?” Caleb replies, startled by the distraction. “I should get it cut, I think.”

“Oh, don’t!” Essek argues, and resumes his detangling journey. “I like how it looks long.”

A secret for a secret; a moment of vulnerability in exchange for another. Caleb knows how this works. He takes a deep breath. “I’ve never had my hair this long before.”

“Oh?”

“Ja. When I was a student, we had to keep our hair short,” he explains. “ _ Very  _ short. At first, I kept my hair long because it was a good disguise. Now, I just,” he laughs a little, mostly to break the tension in his back. “I don’t know. I think I am experimenting, now that I have the option to.”

“I like how it looks long,” Essek muses. “Tilt your head back so I can rinse, there,” he runs warm water through Caleb’s hair, and then “I should braid it, later.”

“That could be fun.”

“I keep my hair short because--” Essek starts to explain. “Well, because drow men are supposed to keep their hair long, I suppose. In elaborate braids, a sign of submission to their wives or matriarchs. I  _ hate _ that, so I cut mine all off as soon as I moved out of my mother’s house.” He turns Caleb around so that they are facing each other again, looking the human over with approval. “I think you are done.”

“ _ You _ aren’t,” Caleb says softly. “Float back down. Let me wash yours.”

Essek does what he’s told, and soon his feet are flat on the shower floor again, almost five inches shorter than Caleb with his feet flat on the floor. His back turns to Caleb, and Caleb puts the shampoo in his hands, and begins to lather.

Wet, Essek’s soft curls lay flat. His hair is a different texture than Caleb’s; it’s thicker than it looks, but it’s still quite short. It doesn’t take long for Caleb to wash his hair--his hair is  _ much _ shorter, after all--but Caleb doesn’t quite want to get out of the shower just yet. 

Outside the shower, the world is dark, cold, and empty. Here, it’s warm, and wet, and there is a lovely naked Essek to keep him company. 

So he runs his fingers across Essek’s skin, paying close attention to the noises his drow makes as he does so. His ears are sensitive; he gets playful gasps when his fingers trail along the tips of his ears. His back shoulders are firm to the touch--unlike Caleb, Essek’s skin is completely unmarred; there is no maze of scars, and the only bruises are the ones Caleb put there yesterday. He plays slightly with Essek’s collarbone, admiring the trail of darkened flesh he left there yesterday.

He leans forward to turn the water off when Essek grabs his wrist and kisses him.

Warm and wet from the water, the shower steams around them. They kiss open-mouth, tangled lips and teeth clashing, and when they pull apart to breath, the sclera of Essek’s eyes have turned dark again, black outlining silver.

He barely has time to notice before Essek is on him again, his sharp teeth finding Caleb’s neck, sucking a deep purple bruise into him. His tongue laps at the running water running down his body, tasting Caleb more than he tastes the water.

Caleb, for his part, finds his hands in Essek’s hair, and  _ pulls. _

“Tell me what you want,” he says, his voice low and deep and full of want. There’s water in his eyes, and his skin is going to blister and prune from the heat of the shower, but he doesn’t much care, not right now, not while his fist is still tightly grasping Essek’s hair, and Essek’s panting from want. “I want to make you come. I wanna make  _ you  _ feel good.”

He pulls Essek closer to him and kisses him, tongue first, tasting him, even as Essek whines in his grasp. He spends a few minutes just like this, exploring Essek’s mouth and pulling tightly on his hair, enjoying the way Essek gasps and moans with every little tug.

“You still haven’t answered me,” he teases, even though in Essek’s defense, he hasn’t given him the chance to. He peppers his face, his neck, his jaw with kisses, nibbling his way towards Essek’s sensitive ears. He takes a gentle nip at the point, then pulls on Essek’s hair again. “What do you want me to do to you?”

“T-touch me,” Essek gasps, and even with the water and the citrus shampoo Caleb can smell his heat radiating off of him. “L-like I t-touched myself last n-night- _ oooh _ .”

Caleb is kissing him again, pressing him up against the shower wall, maneuvering him with his hand still in his hair. With his free hand, he reaches down and squeezes Essek’s bottom. Essek has a nice ass, one that Caleb has yet to have the chance to appreciate the way it so clearly deserves. “Here?” He asks, and squeezes again, enjoying the feel of Essek’s curved assets.

His drow gasps, and nods.

“Do you have any slick?” Caleb asks, mouthing at the space where Essek’s neck meets his jawline. “Something that can withstand the water, and--”

With a flick of his wrist, Essek pulls a vial of oil from his pocket space, and hands it over. “ _ Please _ ,” he begs prettily, so prettily that Caleb doesn’t have it in him to question the convenience of the oil. 

Instead, he begins slicking up his fingers with the oil, admiring how they stay slick in spite of the shower still running. His fingers are a little prune-y, but that’s okay, because he has something better to do with them now.

He runs his fingers down Essek’s body, spreading his cheeks gently, his fingers pressing slowly and softly, cautious not to move too fast. He doesn’t want to hurt his partner.

“Please,” Essek begs, grinding his hips against Caleb’s. “ _ Please _ .”

“Patience,” Caleb teases, kissing his chest lightly, right above his heart. He kneels slightly so he can kiss him lower, and lower, even as his fingers start working Essek open. He loves the noises Essek makes, the little gasps, the moans, as his fingers work Essek open, in and out, in and out.

He kneels fully so that he has a better angle to work with, his knees slick on the shower floor, so that he has to hold on to Essek’s knees to balance himself. Even kneeling, he’s a little too tall, but he makes it work, kissing Essek’s belly button, the dimples on his stomach, runs his tongue along his hip bones. As he does, he keeps his hands busy, one massaging and squeezing Essek’s backside while the other explores and touches and opens.

He deliberately ignores Essek’s cock, even if it is glaringly hard in his face. Instead, he kisses his way to Essek’s thighs, and decides that his skin is  _ too _ smooth here, too nice and soft to the touch, and so begins sucking a bruise into his thigh. It’s easier to ignore his own arousal if he focuses on Essek’s, if he gets to keep teasing him.

“ _ Caleb, _ ” Essek moans, his hands entwining into Caleb’s hair, a mirror of what they were like earlier, when he washed his hair tenderly. “Caleb,  _ please _ ,”

He ignores him, and so Essek tugs, his touch still too gentle to actually hurt. “Caleb,  _ please  _ touch me.” He begs, his voice high pitched and whiny, breathless.

Caleb knows what he wants, but he also knows he’s having too much fun right now to stop. He moves his mouth from his thigh, his nose barely brushing against Essek’s cock. Stealthy, he picks up the lube and coats his fingers again, and when he puts a third finger into his lover, he enjoys the gasp, the tightness and the warmth. “Like this?”

Above him, Essek  _ howls _ with pleasure.

Unable to help himself, Caleb presses gentle kitten kisses along Essek’s cock. The scent of him is strongest here, arousing, intoxicating, and almost as soon as he takes Essek into his mouth he comes with a yell, coming into Caleb’s mouth and all around his face. 

The taste of him is unexpected, different from anyone else Caleb’s ever been with. Slightly sweet. He enjoys the taste of him that he swallows, and licks his lips, chasing the taste. He slides his fingers out of him, a slight  _ pop _ sound as he does.

Lazily, he takes his hand and starts stroking himself, and it’s only as he starts to do so that he realizes Essek is still  _ incredibly hard _ , despite having just come on Caleb’s face.

Huh. Another side effect of the heat, or…?

He doesn’t have an opportunity to think about it much after that. Essek has turned the shower off, and he drags Caleb--still on his knees--by his hair out of the shower, until Caleb is lying flat on his back on Essek’s bathroom floor. There is water  _ everywhere _ \--they’ve made quite a mess it seems--but Essek doesn’t give a shit, because he’s kissing Caleb again, and there’s oil slick on his hands as he pumps Caleb’s cock, now impossible to ignore. 

_ “Essek,”  _ he breathes, but his drow ignores him, kissing a bruise into his collarbone as his hand works him up and down, up and down. When his orgasm hits, it hits like a boulder to his skull, and when he comes to again he finds Essek licking him clean.

* * *

Tangled up in one another on the bathroom floor, Caleb has to help Essek come twice more before his heat finally subsides, and his eyes turn to their normal white-and-gray. Flushed and warm and messy, Caleb chuckles as Essek moans beside him.

“I think I broke my hip,” the drow complains, sitting up and rubbing his back tenderly. 

Gingerly, Caleb sits up as well, loose and love-sick beside him. “Is it going to be like that every time from now on?” He asks, trying to keep his excitement from his voice. For a moment, he feels intense jealousy that he is not a drow, that his body isn’t going through the same intense longing that Essek’s is going through, before he remembers the downsides Essek’s mentioned.

Essek snorts. “Fuck if I know,” he runs his hands across his face, wincing in pain. “Why did we fuck on the floor again?”

Caleb pats Essek lovingly on the thigh before he pulls himself up, using the counter to help. He leans over and offers Essek a hand to help him stand with. “ _ You _ suggested a shower.”

Essek scrunches his nose, but he takes Caleb’s hand and lets Caleb help him up. Caleb marvels slightly at how  _ light _ he is, how it takes almost no strength at all to help him stand. 

“It was a good shower,” Essek defends himself, his nose still scrunched up, and Caleb feels a pang of longing in his heart. 

“A very good shower,” Caleb confesses, and cannot stop himself from leaning over and kissing Essek gently on the forehead. “We might need another one, later. We made a bit of a mess.”

Essek waves his hand in a now-familiar pattern, and then they are both clean again, just like they were before. Lazily, Essek drifts near Caleb, head on his shoulder, and Caleb finds himself draping an arm around Essek’s shoulder, half-carrying him towards the bedroom. 

“Nap first,” Essek mutters, wrapping an arm around Caleb’s waist. “Then...food. And then who knows what.”

Caleb has ideas; he squeezes Essek’s shoulder as he opens the door to Essek’s room, and the two of them tumble towards the bed.

* * *

They do eventually get up and get dressed, but that’s mostly because the need for food calls to them more than anything. Downstairs in Essek’s tiny kitchen, Essek boils water for noodles while Caleb remakes tea and sets the table.

His reflection in the tea kettle surprises him; his hair is wild, and he didn’t shave this morning, and he looks--

Well, he looks like he’s been well and truly fucked, which is true, and so he doesn’t worry much about it.

Lunch is simple but filling; they don’t talk much, both of them too tired for smalltalk, but not talking means Caleb gets to admire Essek’s own messy appearance--the too-large sweater that’s falling off of one shoulder. The way his curls are going each and every which way. The bruising on his neck.

Outside, a bolt of lightning strikes, and Caleb belatedly realizes that it’s  _ still _ raining. “Is it going to rain all week?” He asks, refilling his teacup.

“It might,” Essek says, scrapping the last bite of noodles off of his plate. “Monsoon season. We get a  _ lot  _ of rain this time of year.”

They are quiet again while Caleb thinks about what he just said. He’s not been in Xhorhas long; he’s assumed their seasons are the same as the Empire, but they are quite a bit more east, aren’t they? And most of Xhorhas is marshland; it makes sense that they have a rainy season. The Mighty Nein are just so rarely in the same place for a long time; it’s hard to acknowledge the seasons.

“Can I braid your hair?” Essek asks softly, disrupting Caleb from his thoughts. 

Oh. “If you’d like,” Caleb offers, suddenly shy. He runs a hand through the tangled mess on his head. “It’s a bit of a mess right now, but--”

“That’s alright,” Essek says. With a bit of string and a piece of wood, he summons an  _ unseen servant _ , who immediately collects their dishes. “The other room will be warmer.”

Together, they walk quietly into the sitting room. Caleb builds a fire in the fireplace, then turns his attention to Essek. “Where do you want me?”

“On the floor,” Essek says, sitting on the couch. He has a hairbrush that he’s pulled out of somewhere, and a band around his wrist. “So I can reach your head, you silly giant.”

He’s not  _ that  _ tall. “Caduceus and Fjord are both taller than me,” he chides, sitting criss-cross in front of Essek. Out of habit, he summons Frumpkin from the ether, and pets his cat in his lap.

Essek ignores him, though, and instead starts brushing his hair, pulling the tangles out bit by bit. It’s relaxing, actually; Essek is incredibly gentle, careful not to pull on his hair at all, even if it is a horrid mess. With Essek’s gentle touch, Frumpkin in his lap, and the warmth of the fire, it’d be easy to fall asleep again.

He doesn’t need to, though. He’s slept enough already today, and it’s only a little after noon. “I’m surprised you know how to braid hair,” Caleb asks, mostly for the sake of making conversation. Essek starts parting his hair into sections, his fingers gentle as they move. 

“Drow men are supposed to keep their hair long,” Essek repeats his words from earlier, in the shower. “In elaborate braids, a sign of submission. Of course I know how to braid hair.”

Caleb smiles softly. “Is this you saying you want me to be more submissive?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Essek says as he starts to braid, and Caleb notes that he does not deny it. “It’s just--you have very pretty hair, but it gets everywhere. I can’t imagine it’s conductive to spellwork, or being on a battlefield.”

He has a bit of a point. “It’s not really.”

“And I don’t want you to cut it,” Essek explains, his fingers moving like a trained weaver, moving section over section, over, under, above, below. “Because I do think it’s quite flattering on you. So. A braid.”

Practicality. Makes sense, although it doesn’t explain the tenderness with which Essek moves, or the softness of his voice. 

“I suppose I also wanted to see what it looks like on you,” Essek explains, after a few minutes of silence, his fingers training through the ends of Caleb’s hair.

“You’re experimenting.”

“Yes,” Essek smiles playfully, turning Caleb’s head so that he faces him. “Each of the major dens has its own style of braiding. I wanted to see what mine looked like on you.”

Caleb smiles, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. “And? How does it look?”

“Like it belongs.”

“You’ll have to teach me how to do it myself,” Caleb smiles at him. “So that I’m not a danger to myself on the battlefield.”

Essek makes a noise that sounds a bit like he’s choking. “Perhaps something faster,” he squeaks, his palms noticeably sweaty. “Easier to do on the go, right? A simpler braid than what I’ve done here,” he pulls a mirror out from the ether, and holds it up to Caleb. “What do you think?”

It looks nice. The braids are intricate: there are two side braids that seem to be woven together to make a single braid in the back, but it looks nice. Keeps the hair out of his eyes. Probably too complicated to wear every day, but it’s nice for right now.

Essek seems quite pleased with himself, though, so Caleb smiles. “I like it. Thank you.”

“Any time,” Essek offers, beaming with pride. “Did you--did you have plans for the rest of the day?”

“Besides spend time with you? Not particularly, why?”

Essek’s eyes seem to glow. “Wanna do magic with me?”

Oh, _ fuck yes. _ “I would love to.”

* * *

Of all the things Caleb could do in his free time, doing magic is his absolute favorite use of time. There was something wholesome and pure about the study of magic, about furthering his knowledge just for the sake of furthering his knowledge. Sure, he works well when he has a goal, a specific spell idea in mind, but sometimes it is fun to just mess with magic, to see what you can create with the arcane.

It’s especially fun, too, in Essek’s lab, where Essek has ready access to spell components, including expensive ones Caleb doesn’t normally get to mess with.

He and Essek move together like a well-oiled machine, like they’ve been doing this for centuries. They dodge and weave around each other, finishing each other’s thoughts before the other can finish forming them. Caleb hands Essek the prosperous he needs before Essek can verbally say to pass it; Essek corrects Caleb’s math in his arcane formula before Caleb realizes he’s even made a mistake. Together, they sit on their knees, tracing arcane ruins in Essek’s floor with luminescent chalk, each one finishing where the other began, moving as one to complete the runes. 

He loses track of time, here, unsure of how many hours he’s spent with Essek as they discuss magical theory. It’s the happiest he’s been in a while, though, that’s for certain.

“What do you think?” Essek asks, kneeling back on the floor, two jars of dust in his arms. Beside him, Caleb is jotting down notes in his journal. “Gem dust or gold dust? And how much of it, do you think?”

Caleb scratches  _ gem dust? Gold dust?  _ In his notes, tapping his quill repeatedly. “I’ve not much experience with either, to be honest. I’m sure either will do.”

Essek nods, and pulls open the jar of gem dust, a white-silver-blue sparkle dust, and he sprinkles a little bit on the arcane runes below. Nothing happens, of course; without thinking, he then scratches his nose, leaving a trail of sparkles across his face.

Caleb drops his quill.

It’s so--- _ stupid _ , but the gemdust trails Essek’s dark skin like freckles, and Caleb is struck by the juxtoposition; how Essek is still wearing pajama bottoms and a sweater and looks terribly domestic and comfortable; how Essek has gemdust across his nose like stars in a night sky, and he looks beautiful and etheral, otherwordly in his elegance, and before Caleb can stop himself he’s leaned over to kiss him.

It’s a soft kiss, just a gentle press of lips against lips, and he doesn’t intend to press any further than that, but then Essek’s hands cradle his face, and he finds himself kissing him again, and again, his mouth open to better explore his partner’s. He finds his hands pulling at Essek’s sweater to pull him closer, fingers locked in soft fabric, until Essek is practically in his lap.

They spend several minutes like this, tangled up and kissing slowly, more interested in exploration than chasing pleasure. It doesn’t last long, however; soon Essek heat triggers. Caleb can tell by the sweat pouring off of Essek’s back, and the sharpness of his fangs as he bites into Caleb’s neck.

Gently, Caleb pushes him down onto the floor into the center of the runes, ruining their work and coating Essek in a layer of luminescent chalk. Carefully, Caleb peels Essek’s sweater off of him, then lifts Essek’s hips so that he can shimmy out of his pajama bottoms, until his drow is lovely and naked beneath him.

“Caleb,” Essek breathes. Under the  _ dancing lights _ , his dark eyes shine back at Caleb.

“Shh,” Caleb whispers. He dips his fingers into the jar of gem dust, and begins tracing arcane runes into Essek’s skin with the dust. He’s not drawing any particular pattern or spell; rather, he’s just drawing from memory, tracing swirls into Essek’s skin. He looks lovely like this, covered in sparkles and gem dust; Caleb begins kissing along the paths he’s traced, taking one of Essek’s nipples into his mouth, kissing and sucking on it gently. When he pulls away, it’s to admire his handiwork; the enjoyment of the sight of Essek, bedazzled with gem dust and kiss marks.

He barely has time to admire his artwork before Essek has wrapped his legs around his, flipping them over so that Caleb is on his back, now. He unbuttons his shirt with little care, somehow managing not to rip it off completely. 

“You are being a terrible tease,” Essek moans, kissing his way down Caleb’s neck. 

“I just wanted to make you shiny,” Caleb laughs, Essek’s hair tickling his neck slightly. 

Gingerly, Essek opens the jar of gold dust, and dips his fingers into it. “Two can play at that game, sir,” he blows the dust onto Caleb’s face before tracing it onto his shoulders, his chest. He doesn’t touch Caleb’s hair, which is still done up in the braid Essek did earlier. And Caleb can’t see himself, cannot imagine what it is exactly Essek is drawing on him, but he thinks he might be tracing gold dust into his freckles. His touch is light, revering, gentle. He moves slowly from his shoulders to his arms, tracing gold into the patterns of arcane scars that line his arms.

Caleb shivers, but lets Essek continue his movement for a moment, then two, until he cannot stomach the gentleness for which Essek touches the worst parts of him.

He leans upward and kisses Essek again, eager to blame the tightness of his trousers as a distraction. He wraps his arms around Essek and drags him down again, until they are both on the floor, side by side, chalk everywhere, gold and silver dust mixing on their skin.

He shimmies out of his pants so that they are both naked now, and breathless, but he doesn’t feel close enough to him, not yet. “Do you have the slick? From before?”

With a flick of his wrist, Essek pulls the vial from his pocket dimension, which he hands over after running some on his own hands. “Are you going to touch me like before?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes,” Essek gasps. “I want more. I want,” he runs his oil slicked hand down Caleb’s cock, squeezing him tightly. “ _ You _ .”

Ah. Message received, then.

Gently, he coats his fingers with the slick before running his fingers along Essek’s cheeks, spreading them gently. At the same time, he kisses Essek slowly as his fingers move, opening him up, spreading him open until his fingers move easily with little resistance. Essek must be enjoying the feeling, too, because he makes lovely noises as Caleb fingers him open.

When he thinks he’s open enough, he takes more of the slick and runs it down his cock, to an almost obscene amount. But he doesn’t want to hurt Essek, and he’d rather be overcautious than not.

Besides; he’s not done this before.

He knows the mechanics, of course; he’s well-read enough to know how this works. But while he traded a few kisses and handjobs with boys back in the Academy, none of his dalliances ever progressed so far. He doesn’t want to fuck this up.

He wraps Essek’s legs around his waist, and slides into him slowly, inch by agonizing inch. Essek is  _ tight _ , the tightest thing he’s ever been inside of, and it takes everything in Caleb not to move, to not buck into a steady rhythm immediately.

His patience is rewarded, however, because Essek begins to move instead, a gentle rocking of hips, and it doesn’t take long for them to find a rhythm that suits them both, in and out, in and out. 

“You are so beautiful,” Caleb whispers, peppering Essek’s neck with kisses. His drow clings to him, arms wrapped around his back.

“ _ Harder _ , please, Caleb, I won’t break, I--” there is desperation in Essek’s voice, and Caleb is helpless but to please him, increasing his speed and trying desperately not to come, not yet, at least, despite how tight and warm and good Essek feels around him.

So instead, he tries to concentrate on making  _ Essek  _ feel good; he rubs his hand down his cock, tries to angle in the way that makes his lover make the most noise. He’s rewarded when Essek comes  _ hard _ , like a ship crashing against the shore.

It makes Caleb come, too, and when he does he sees stars, and he’s unsure if the stars are the dust on Essek’s face, or the color of his eyes.

* * *

_ Components: S, M (1 drow in heat, luminescent chalk, 100 g of gem and gold dust _

“Oh honey,” Essek interrupts his note taking, kissing his back gently. “You think that was only a hundred gold worth of dust?”

Caleb taps his quill, dotting his journal with little black dots. “I assumed you wouldn’t let us waste more than that. Is it--is it more than that?”

Essek keeps kissing his back, not answering his question. Hesitantly, he scratches out the  _ 100 _ and writes  _ 300? _ instead. 

He hears Essek chuckle against him as the drow leans over to take the quill from him, putting a  _ 1 _ in front of the three.

“Are you  _ serious? _ ” Caleb gasps, rolling over so that he could face Essek properly. “You let me  _ waste _ \--?”

“In my defense, I was horny, and you are cute and full of good ideas,” he kisses Caleb, mostly to distract him from what must be a horrified look on his face. It doesn’t work, though, as Caleb is still reeling from the fact that he just wasted over a thousand gold on spell components so that he and Essek could have glittery sex.

“A thousand gold,” Caleb repeats. It’s more gold than his parents ever made ever, and he wasted it on sex.  _ Great  _ sex, bu sex nontheless. 

“Might be a low estimate.” Essek says sheepishly. 

“A _low_ _estimat--”_

“But that just means we should go again,” Essek winks at him, brushing a bit off gold dust off of his face. “Make sure we get our money’s worth, right?”

Oh, well, hmm. There was a thought.

“I would hate to be wasteful,” Caleb admits, and then he kisses Essek again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to the shadowgast-nsfw discord for ideas, and to the AMAZING art that came from the Essek-discord!

**Author's Note:**

> Caleb packed several shirts, actually, but Jester removed one from his pack, Nott removed another, and Beau took one, so really, he only had 1 shirt left in his sack by the time he got to Essek’s house. The girls were trying to Help a Bro Out, you know?


End file.
